Author's Note: A poem ode to the Teleporter Bug, who has done so much, namely getting me back to the Collective Unconscious when I needed it most, and never asked for anything in return.

You should all be ashamed of yourselves.

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My name is the teleporter bug.

I am not ever snug.

I have never so much as sat on a rug.

All I really want is to be hugged.

But you people do is tug

On me, ask me to lug

You across the dimension, and you chug

Your soda, not giving me, the bug

A sip or a hug,

Or a rug,

In which to be snug

For I'm a minority worker, meant to lug

All you jerks across the CU, and I chug

Gutter water, sitting on cold stone instead of a rug

Why don't you people love me, the bug?