"Why?"  said I.  "Why would anyone ever want to leave the shifty-parrot website?"

"They could get bored with it." replied my friend.

"Bored?  That's unthinkable!" I shouted.  "There are over 40 poems on this site - it takes ages to read them all!"

"Ahh, but what happens when they have finished reading them - what happens then?"  My friend looked at me with a smug grin on his face.  "Eventually we all move on, it's a fact of life!"

"They could sign the guestbook!" I said triumphantly.  "Or perhaps they could send an e-mail with their thoughts and queries - perhaps even send me money!"  The thought of a publishing deal ran briefly through my mind.

"But even after they've done all that they will still run out of things to do!"  My friend sat there smiling and shaking his head.  "It's beyond your control Simmie - forget about it and just move on!"

"But I can't!" I wailed.  "I've put too much work into this - blood, sweat tears, even monkeys for God's sake!  I could have been someone, I could have done things with my life.  But no - instead I frittered my life away producing this bloody thing, so that the masses could enjoy the poetry book, and what thanks do I get from my friends and my peers?  Nothing - no thanks, just pain and abuse.

My friend threw back his head and laughed.

"You just don't get it do you?" he sneered.  "Nobody will ever thank you - you're just a sad little weirdo!"

So I got up out of my chair and smote him royally with my trusty cricket bat.