#### _{*Side note: I absolutely love vi, Vim, Neovim and other vi insipired text-editors. You just can't have enough Vim. Hence this joke is more akin to a love-letter to Vim than serious piece of critique or sarcasm, although I do want to acknowledge there is a certain fringe in and around every piece of technology.*}

**Scene: A small, dingy medieval tavern. A group of over-zealous, robed tech monks sit around a round table. They’re chanting in low voices while one monk, Brother Jenkins, dramatically holds a *Vim* manual above his head, swaying slightly as if in religious ecstasy. The door bursts open, and in strolls Larry, who is clearly not impressed.** **Brother Jenkins:** (reverently) *“The Vim editor, a joy untold... A tool of efficiency that never grows old...”* **Monks:** (chanting in unison) *“Never grows old... never grows old...”* **Larry:** (gruffly) “Oh, for crying out loud, what is this nonsense?” **Brother Jenkins:** (gasping) “Silence, heretic! You stand in the sacred halls of **Vim!**” **Monks:** *“Vim! Vim! All hail the holy keystrokes!”* **Larry:** (rolls eyes) “What are you lot on about?” **Brother Jenkins:** “We sing the praises of Vim! The **most holy** and **efficient** of text editors!” (his eyes widen) *“Have you not experienced the ecstasy of typing without a mouse?!”* **Larry:** (sarcastically) “Oh, yeah, sounds riveting. What’s next? You’ll be tellin’ me how to exit it”. **Monks:** (suddenly panicked, whispering) *“He said the cursed words... the forbidden riddle...”* **Brother Jenkins:** (hisses) “No one speaks of… of exiting Vim!” **Larry:** (smirks) “Oh, so none of you knows how to, eh? Thought so.” **Brother Jenkins:** (rising dramatically) “Exiting Vim is not a mere mortal task! Only those of us who have transcended...” (he holds up a complicated sequence of keystrokes) “...may know the way. But first, you must learn the sacred arts of... *file navigation*!” **Larry:** (laughs) “Look, mate, all I want is to write a simple shopping list, not decode an ancient prophecy.” **Brother Jenkins:** (suddenly grave) “You wish to write? With Vim? Then you must ascend through its infinite layers of power. You must face... the **syntax demon!**” **(A hooded monk dramatically approaches from the shadows, clutching a scroll covered in symbols.)** **Syntax Demon:** (in a dark, raspy voice) “Oooooh, the indentation is **wrong**, mortal! You have missed... a **semicolon**!” **Larry:** (sarcastic) “Oh no! Whatever shall I do without my semicolon? The world shall collapse!” **Syntax Demon:** (cackles maniacally) “Collapse? Collapse? No, fool! Your code will not run! You shall be lost in an endless loop, forever cursed to press *escape* only to find yourself... still inside Vim!” **Larry:** (shrugs) “Could be worse. I could be stuck using **Emacs**.” **(The monks gasp in horror. One faints. A pigeon outside the window bursts into flames.)** **Brother Jenkins:** (fiercely) “Blasphemy! You speak of the cursed **editor of the weak-willed!** One who desires only buttons and menus!” **Monks:** *“Burn the heretic! Burn the heretic!”* **Larry:** (rolling his eyes) “Oh, come on. What’s so magical about this Vim thing anyway? You all bang on about it like it’s some kind of divine miracle.” **Brother Jenkins:** (dramatically) “A miracle indeed! For with keystrokes alone, you shall summon... *the Plugins!*” **(Suddenly, a flurry of random plugins materialize from the air: an automatic bread slicer, a hovercraft, and a tiny man with a mustache, all clearly useless.)** **Brother Jenkins:** (with glee) “See how they expand the power of Vim? The hovercraft plugin lets you... err... well, it doesn’t actually hover, but the concept is divine!” **Larry:** (raising an eyebrow) “And the bread slicer?” **Brother Jenkins:** (awkwardly) “It's a *beta* feature.” **Larry:** (folding arms) “Right. And what about posting to Hive? I hear people are doing that too with this thing.” **Brother Jenkins:** (dramatically) “Yes! With Vim, you can post to Hive — a task of such magnitude and complexity that only the truly enlightened may attempt it.” (leans in) “Have you ever imagined... posting an article... with only **keystrokes**?” **Larry:** (deadpan) “Yeah, it sounds like a right thrill. Almost as exciting as watching a paint-drying plugin.” **Brother Jenkins:** (gritting his teeth)“ You do not understand! Vim is not just an editor... it is a **lifestyle**. It is **freedom** from... from... menus! Mice! The tyranny of user-friendly interfaces!” (pauses) “And don't even get me started on undo trees.” **Larry:** (faking enthusiasm) “Oh wow, undo trees? Fascinating.” (yawns) “And here I thought this was all nonsense.” **(Suddenly, the door bursts open. In walks a bureaucrat with a briefcase.)** **Bureaucrat:** (blandly) “Right then, I need all of you to sign this form 47-B. We're terminating all overly dramatic editor-based cults. Can't have you chanting about syntax in pubs anymore. Health and safety, you see.” **Brother Jenkins:** (horrified) “No! Vim shall never be suppressed! We must —” (pauses) “Wait... where do I sign?” **Bureaucrat:** (without looking up) “Press escape, colon, w, q. Or just use **nano** like a normal person.” **(The monks scream in terror as the skit ends with them collapsing into chaos, papers flying, and Larry smugly walking out. Fade to black.)**