Category Archives: Humor

33: A mantis in Atlantis

Under the sea
Under the sea
Life is much better
Down where it’s wetter,
take it from me!*

I was strapped to a stool
facing a desk
on a concrete floor
under a hot light
Behind the desk sat a Mantis.
Unusually large (s)he was.
Triangular visage.
Opaque eyes.
Saw-toothed arms, chitinous wings.
Elbows on the desktop. (do they have elbows)
It wanted me to play the shell game.
With actual shells.
It lifted the centre shell
and placed a copper key underneath it.
I knew it would fit my locks.
With a whiz whiz here
and a whiz whiz there,
it stymied my eyes.
Then chittered out some tiny bubbles.
I was to pick.
Left-hand one: empty.
Right hand one: The key! I had done it!
Whereupon it raised up a grassy palm,
stopping my reach.
Pointed to the centre one.
I lift.
It’s me, miniature me. Runs around with a puny scream.
Mantis makes a grab. Stuffs mini me into mandibles.
Reaches out with saw-toothed arms…

*Disney

Alliteration bugs in the garden

I dug the whole hole for that last scrubby shrub.
Busted birchy bones to get in.
Warm wiggly worms waggled their surprise.
Put peat partly into the mix,
Tamped the topsoil tightly down.
Aggravated army of ants on the march
On skin they tickle
like drops that trickle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At last, with a drench,
and pardon my French,
I curse with the worst malediction.
And, swatting the ants
that have crawled up my pants,
I perform it-
A shrub’s benediction.

 

 

The affair

I feel possessed when you come ’round.
Vampire of my affections
that I save, unknowingly,
to cast, as pearls.
Lost upon you?
So nervous you are.
Just a touch makes a static spark,
and you jump back, mistrustful.
I hold out to you my right hand,
and slowly shutter my eyes
in token of obeisance.
I may, I think, know the art
that is needed to quiet your qualms.
A studied gentleness of touch.
An equal and opposite reaction
to your fickle withdrawals or to your nuzzlings.
As I stop my strokings,
your almond eyes register their displeasure.
I feel a petulant bite.

See you later, alligator.

No tuna for you tonight.

Mister M.

 

 

We mumbles,
yes we mumbles,
and oftentimes we screams.
Depends a lot on Mister “M”,
Director of our dreams.

We stumbles and we fumbles,
through the achy breaky pains.
And he always makes us stay inside,
excepting when it rains.

Now, quite a skimpy imp he is,
but never is he humble.
He Keeps us down and out of it,
no matter how we grumble.

He takes delight in malady
and worthiness a-crumble.
Remembrance of normality
has taken quite a tumble.

We hear that even Superman
could not defeat the imp.
We’ve got to learn to think again
to cure us of its gimp.

So, fight its stories drear and dark,
and give it no more place.
Unhappiness, his mortal mark,
may leave but little trace.

Furry ventriloquism 

I never knew what cats were thinking, until my teenaged daughter started “rescuing” them, one by one, and bringing them home.  In one case, it was a clandestine operation involving a smuggle under her jacket, and a fait accompli when we arrived.

Like many Dads, I found it hard to stay mad for very long, and actually was secretly amused by the lengths to which she would go to get these fleabags in the door.
Ahem, one of them actually was a fleabag.  This was the smuggled one, and it came from her aunt’s place, who once (when asked how many cats she had) said “several”.  Really, it was about 30, so this was classified as a rescue.  Apparently, her Mom knew about it beforehand, and was in cahoots.  When produced from inside her jacket, it was already scratching and had sores on its chin…..vet visit the very next day.

Once we had domesticated these things, it became my daughter’s habit to amuse everyone by devising clever things that she thought each cat would say in a given situation, then (with a straight face) speak the lines in a voice which was a dead ringer for the Gingerbread Man from Shrek.

It nearly made me pee myself, and, of course, this encouraged her.  So, for the few more years that she lived at home, I got so used to it that I almost found myself wanting to have a conversation with the silly things.

When it finally came time for her to go on her own, she left them with us.
We were standing at the door to see her off, and my tears started to roll.
All I could think of to say was “Now, how am I going to know what the cats are thinking?”

What did you expect?

The arborite of tabletop is smooth and cool and even.
Reach now for the shining phone. Feel its warm monolith, tented over in your pocket. For extra reassurance, stroke the disagreeable cat. It is deep velvet, simmering skin, removable whiskers. Only you can elicit its purr, calm its condescending glare. Don’t you dare stop, or forget the filaments of the ear.

Push up, now, from your chair by the fire. Feel and hear the sharp crack of the ankle. The protesting knee, surely out of warranty. Shuffling’s horizon. Whiskers follow you to the kitchen. Treat time for the Terrible Two. Vet says four each. You say “What!? They will kill me in my sleep!” Aha. Four. Not fourteen for these crack addicts. Keep your bedroom door closed tonight, and wear earplugs.

Grip the smooth silver of the fridge door handle. Pull to open. You must be losing weight, ’cause inertia’s not enough now. There. Ahh. Hear the sucking door seal, note the frail flicker of the light. There’s a last bottle of Heineken. It is smooth and cool and even. Sit you down, father. Rest you. Take care not to cut yourself when that twist off cap doesn’t work.

The spirits of today

[The scene:  Mister and Missus lie abed.  Morning light begins to filter in, but the snooze goes on and on.  Their eyes are their own, for a last time.  Two phantom faces, etched in smoke, circle the ceiling.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[RIMIDALV]  It is time.  Let us go.

[MIK]  Which one do you want?

[RIMIDALV]  You take the lumpy one.

[MIK]  Hah!  I think you just lost out!

***They enter into these two temples***

[RIMIDALV]  Ooh…you are right.  This is a bad feeling.

[MIK]  Do you think it will be a lengthy time before we learn the moves?

[RIMIDALV]  Nonsense.  We’ve had similar before.  Use the muscles, rise from bed.

***Mik sits up, stands, slides one foot ahead of the other***

[MIK]  Look!  I did do it!  Now you.  What’s the matter?

[RIMIDALV]  I don’t know.  The stiffness, the fog.  I think this one was a student of sloth.

[MIK]  Then give it some exercise.

***Rimidalv rises and does a few jumping jacks.***

[RIMIDALV]  The blood pumper doth protest.  We must lie and get some rest.

[MIK]  Sleep through the day…deal?

[RIMIDALV]  Yes, we will need the energy.  Tomorrow is a big day.

[MIK]  By the way, did these things have names?

[RIMIDALV]  Let’s look.

***They both smile, close the curtains, and jump into bed***

[RIMIDALV]  Goodnight, Mel.

[MIK]  Goodnight, Don.

 

These aren’t the ‘roids you’re looking for

hey!

I just got back from pikkapak

and I don’t know why I came.

It’s an asteroidy bric-a-brac

like in the viddy game.

It’s big enough to have some fun

but you gotta come out early

(just before the morning sun)

to catch the hurly-burly.

Their party time is two-four-seven,

and no one ever sleeps.

And nobody will go to heaven,

but no one ever weeps.

Now, if you’d like to visit there

to wash away your worry,

well…brush your teeth and comb your hair

and get dressed in a hurry!

The next conveyance leaves at five.

Be waiting at the station!

And try your best to look alive

to pass examination!