Well, I studied German once, for a summer. The PhD program at OU required that we pass the course to proceed with our degree. My friend, John, was fluent in German, and I was remembering him again this morning, which, I realize, is no excuse for inflicting a phony word on this entry; however, I passed the course, love and miss John, and just felt like being silly for a bit. Besides,
Simon is awake and my transport problem with him was also a bit goofy already. First, I made ready our chair in the living room, changed his old wrap on the bed before picking him up, scratched his lower back enough, I thought, to help him move the “poop,” if there was any close at hand, so to speak, out into the open air and on to the pad on the bed. He wagged his tail vigorously, I scratched some more; nothing but tail wag. “We’ll go for it,” I thought. I put my hand on his tail, folded his tail over his butt, got him airborne, and noticed the tail quivering under my hand and getting stiff at an upward angle, as it does before he poops. Oh dear! Only halfway there. I stepped over Schuster, hurried, got Simon to the chair just as he began, pooping, that is. I barely caught the offending matter in one of his old wipes that I keep handy, thus saving the clean chair pad for the moment. Who pooped? Simon pooped. The day thus begins. High noon.
So. As people on TV say as they are about to answer the news journalist’s last question, so, I am about to present, in squalid verse, my latest phone poem effort. This verse [that reminds me, I misquoted Eliot’s Hollow Men ending, in an earlier entry. I wrote “that” when I should have written, “This is the way the world ends…”] has been a work in progress for several days now, and is based on a true thing, a screaming piece of furniture that scares the crap (there’s the theme) out of me every time I hear it! I always think it’s Schuster being harmed.
The Metaphorical Nightmare
We have a bathroom cabinet drawer
That screams whenever disturbed;
It sounds just like a wounded moose,
Or, worse yet, a high-dying goose,
Shot by a hunter in season.
No one’s discovered the reason,
Why this drawer is so loudly perturbed.
The screaming bathroom drawer! Don’t lock the door behind you! (I suppose it could be the frog, but doubt it.)