Boily McPlaterton

Old Boily ran hot as a whore
In a server room lacking a door.
His idle was steaming,
His fan RPM screaming,
And his thermal paste? “Never!” he swore.

He said, “Why just crash when you can
Combust like a frying-pan plan?”
His casing went crack,
Smoke poured from the back,
And the room smelled like scorched DigiPan.

At two PM daily he’d throttle,
Then suck from his coolant-free bottle.
The temps hit one-ten,
He came hard and then
Rebooted in loop at full-throttle.

A thermal spike hit in the night.
Boily said, “Hold me real tight.”
The legacy board
Let out a great roar,
And the firmware came twice before light.

He blamed the voltage regulator—
Said, “That prick is the real instigator.”
But the fan override
Caught him naked inside,
Spooned the heat dissipator.

“My idle temp’s ninety-three C,”
Boily moaned, “come and sit next to me.”
The heatsink said, “No,
You burn everything, bro.”
But he mounted it anyway. Whee.

Emergency Cooldown Form 88-B
Was filed while he humped the PC.
The livestream went wild,
The thermals beguiled,
And the sysadmin wept openly.

He screeches near unventilated kit,
A noise somewhere between moan and spit.
The racks start to sweat,
The cables get wet,
And the server room throws a hot fit.

So when smoke fills the air and you feel
A heat that no coldpatch can heal,
That’s Boily in bloom:
The warmest in the room,
Getting intimate with every last seal.

Boily stared at the thermostat dial,
And let out a sulfurous smile.
“If I burn down the rack,
There’s no going back,”
He thought, heating up by the mile.

The legacy server was old,
With circuits and pathways of gold.
Boily melted the frame,
Said, “It’s a crying shame,
That nobody likes to be cold.”

The scent of hot plastic and wire
Arose from his digital pyre.
He fanned it with pride,
While the cooling fans died,
And muttered, “I love a good fire.”

The panic loop spun like a top,
With nowhere to cool down or stop.
He hit ninety-nine,
Screamed, “This is divine!”
And waited for the system to drop.

They tried liquid nitrogen spray,
To coax his high temp down a way.
He laughed at the frost,
Said, “Your server is lost,”
And burned through the coolant all day.

When the thermals hit one-twenty mark,
Boily lit up the whole dark.
Capacitors popped,
The whole system stopped,
And circuits went out with a spark.

He melted the copper and steel,
Got off on the molten ideal.
When the warranty broke,
He just let out a croak,
Said, “This is the way I feel.”