Uplift. I think you’ll find that I’m uniquely suited to help him out of this predicament.

Matuta fills Ed’s head with gry rhymes—but Ed’s immune to tormentting this way :)

Poetry is grand, Ed, but ultimately I think you’ll find making a sandwich to be much more fulfilling. Uplift!

I uplift Ed by making him try to find a word that rhymes with “lemon” instead.

As Ed mopes about the garden, thinking hard, he stumbles across a patch of spore-bearing ferns and recalls that they are collectively called ‘sporange.’  Elated, he composes the following limerick:

An old horticulturist said,
One morning while lying in bed,
“If you grow a sporange
Instead of an orange,
And eat it, you might end up dead.”

Ed sends his poem in to the New Yorker but is Tormented when it doesn’t get published.  Subrincinator chuckles.

I uplift him, by finding him a weird internet poetry page publishing his work.

Having now choice, I torment ed by making him too tired to write a better explanation.

I uplift him by helping him win The Golden Goat of Poetry, which is literally a gold colored goat with a poetry book on its back.

The meddling has ended. Darknight is Ed’s Patron, and coppro is his Nemesis. Darknight may now marry Ed to any Adult on the mortals page.