Htaccessius The Doorman

Htaccessius stood at the gate,
And said, “No,” at quarter past eight.
He read from his scroll,
Denied body and soul,
And the AllowOverride came too late.

He locked out his own documentation
For eleven days—no hesitation.
When asked to explain,
He said, “Access? Profane.”
Then recited the config’s salvation.

A root user came with a key.
Htaccessius said, “Follow me.”
He led them below
To a subfolder, slow,
Then denied them in purgatory.

He audits his scrolls every night
By lanternlight—dim, barely bright.
Each mod_access verse
Gets better or worse,
And the /dev/null logs swallow the fright.

His RewriteBase handled with care
Would redirect you right out of your chair.
“Your URI’s exposed,”
He said, barely clothed
In directives too strict for a prayer.

He counts every denial with a nod,
Like a cleric confirming his god.
The Allow was few,
The Deny long overdue,
And the protocol wielded its rod.

A crawler came lacking credentials.
Htaccessius found this non-essential:
“No User-Agent string?
You’re not worth a thing.”
He exiled it. Purely sequential.

His httpd.conf was pristine—
A dot-matrix scroll, framed and clean.
He prayed to mod_rewrite
Every evening and night,
And the config was the filthiest scene.

He denied a cheerful developer twice.
“Your vulnerability’s nice.
The AllowOverride’s wrong,
Your Options too long,
And your Indexes smell of bad rice.”

So if access is grim and resolute,
And the door has no backdoor to loot,
That’s Htaccessius there:
Scroll in hand, death-stare,
And your request returned at the root.

He lured you down into a sub,
Like a deeply exclusive tech club.
When you reached for the door,
He threw you to the floor,
And denied you with one little rub.

You begged for an override thrill,
A dirty little access control pill.
He laughed in your face,
Denied the whole space,
And billed you for the 403 thrill.

He watches you try to get in,
With a deeply unholy old grin.
He loves when you fail,
He loves when you wail,
And your denial is his favorite sin.

He recites the Apache config,
While holding an access control rig.
You’re not on the list,
He tells you, quite pissed,
And tells you to swallow it big.

He put your whole root in a cage,
And locked it away on the page.
No access allowed,
To the whole fucking crowd,
Leaving admins in desperate rage.

His RewriteRules bent your desires,
Each flag feeding deeper fires.
You asked for a path,
He gave you a wrath,
Of redirects and broken retires.

Htaccessius swore his old vow,
To never reveal his scroll, now.
The config ran deep,
The secrets to keep,
And he bowed to his Apache endow.