Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Somewhere West of Cabo
Living incommunicado
Is a member of the Belgian CIA
This bureaucratic killer
Lives on a beach front villa
With a parrot that happens to be gay

Dirk, as his friends call him
Loves to smoke and drink and swim
While Doc, the bird, likes to read Walt Whitman.
The two of them get rowdy
Since their official mission’s cloudy
But they are basically a pair of Flemish Hitmen

Dirk and Doc the duo
Went to the local postal depot
To pick up a top secret Belgian Order
The swimmer opened up the Fed-Ex
And read a detailed dialectic
On why they had to kill a news reporter

Never one to argue
Doc was ready for the kung-fu
Since gay parrots tend to lean toward violence
Being lazy more than cautious
Dirk thought it an odd office
To dispose of for Belguims royal highness

Still they traveled up the Baja
Over rocks that once were lava
To find the nearest local journalist
The breeze blew in off the pacific
And since their task was not specific
They meandered toward a store through the mist

The proprietor was stout
With his stomach hanging out
Of the front of his once white v-neck shirt
Doc flew onto the counter
And asked the 300 pounder
If he had any News reporter dirt

Ironically he knew one
So he said into Dirk's gun
He lived around the corner from his mom
The rotund one gave directions
To the pair of well armed Belgians
So they would know right where to place the bomb

Once they set the booby trap
And started to go back
They saw the newsman near the window in his kitchen
Dirk and Doc had in their day
Always killed and walked away
That's why they were the best two Belgian Hitmen

But the pure innocent face
Of the stranger in that place
Who'd done nothing to the King but write the news
Made the swimmer shed a tear
The bird then called him queer
And pushed the button to explode the public muse

Dirk drank a mocha java
While Doc munched a juicy guava
As the man and bird went back home to their beach
They sent a postcard to their boss
About the media's loss
Dirk smoked and drank and swam then went to sleep.

The moon shone in the skylight
As Doc pearched up for the night
Another blood stain on his parrot soul
Without that one reporter
Belguim may regain its order
But Flemish Freedom will always have its toll.