Wednesday, May 31, 2006

The punishment of one insensitive rich man

At 0 one hundred hours central standard time
In a house too big for its own good
And too big for a man and his butler,
A man finds himself lost,
Somewhere between the toilet and the refrigerator.

To find one’s self lost
Is neither to find nor to lose,
But simply to realize one’s position.
That position the man deduced was
Somewhere between the toilet and the refrigerator.

He had set out upon his mission at 11 hundred hours
On the night prior to the day current
To make himself a cheese sandwich.
American cheese, because he is a patriot,
As his father was a patriot and his father before him.

He digressed however to the toilet, for obvious reasons,
And after a leisurely stint
On the American Standard porcelain maiden
He flushed, washed, and saluted, because he is a patriot,
As his father was a patriot and his father before him.

Upon exiting his lavatory it was so dark that he lost his way,
And happened upon a new hallway
That led him to where he now stands a place he had never seen.
He assumed quite egotistically that he owned it
For he was a rich man and owned many things he knew not of.

The place seemed to be reminiscent of someplace else
Someplace both familiar and foreign to him
Familiar and foreign, Like his Bulgarian Butler.
The Butler is actually Russian but the man knew not the difference.
For He was a rich man and owned many things he knew not of.

“Curses to the darkness for turning me around” said the rich man
“Sending me through hallways
Disregarding my need for a sandwich.
Stopping me here in this familiar no place.
Curses”.

“Curses to God who made the darkness” said the rich man
“Who made toilet and the refrigerator,
The hallways and American Cheese,
The God who made My Bulgarian Butler.
Curses.

A sound
A step
A bop on the head

“AGGGH!” said the rich man

“I’ll show you who’s ‘Bulgarian’,
You rich American Trash!”

1 comment:

Danny said...

Billy, glad you loved the post, this poem is great!

Thanks again for the t-shirt.