During my last year at Northeast Missouri State University, the computer bulletin board system was just starting to be used. Among other things, there were many different boards for poetry. On one board, a group of people had created a style of poem called a "Hasenpfeffer Meatloaf Poetry", which had to meet some simple criteria. If I recall correctly, the criteria were:
Hell Mathematics by H.M. Loaf
A Category Theorist bites off my fingers
And places them in a bag labelled "digits".
I try to escape, but my intersection number
Is too high, and I cannot move.
I think to myself, "This kind of sucks."
My teacher appears and promises to free me.
He corrects my intersection number
By drilling holes in my forehead.
I'm still stuck, so he cuts off both my legs.
"There!" he says proudly. "Got rid of that pesky saddlepoint!"
I'm suddenly free, but lacking legs
I fall down a step function.
At the bottom, Lebesgue kicks me in the head
Until I pronounce his name correctly.
I scream, "Hey! This really sucks!"
The exit provides no escape
Because it is both open and closed.
Dr.Bandas asks me if I'm senile yet.
Ignore him.