Back when things were really bad, I used to go to the zoo, and talk to the animals. In particular, one older male lion I called Socrates. We shared the same philosophy. Hmm – that sounds rather conceited of me, doesn’t it? Never mind.
On one occasion, we were chatting away about buttons, zippers, and other fasteners when I heard a voice.
“Freak.”
“Uh-oh…” said the lion. “You’re in trouble now.”
I turned. There stood three young men before me; one short, and another tall. The third had no hat. I wouldn’t say they looked rough, necessarily, but it was clear their engagement with me was not part of a coherent public-relations strategy.
“Who’re you talking to?” asked Tall.
I motioned with my thumb over my shoulder, squinting through one eye. “Just my buddy here.”
“Feeding time!” said the lion.
“Why were you talking to that lion?” asked Tall.
I thought quickly. “Because I’m Dr. Doolittle,” I replied, too fast.
“Doolittle?” repeated Hatless.
“Freak,” said Short.
I was editing the above one night this week, when I became aware of an insistent tapping at my window. I rose, pulled back the curtain, and there, perched outside was a large bird. I opened the window, and the bird asked me for my social security number, my driver’s license number, my last three addresses, details of a valid credit card including security code, and a list of any medications I am currently taking.
I was part-way through the last of these when a sudden sense of foreboding and dread overcame me. I asked the bird, firmly, why he required the information, and he handed me a small, plastic card. Turns out I am now a platinum member of birdybirdbird.com , and entitled to all benefits therewith.
Thank-goodness! I thought it was the government…
Lauren’s poems, this week, were revealed to me gradually.
'Mrs. Murphy' Mrs. Murphy, Whose sunshine exterior Hides a dark past, for her Whose undeterred pursuit of what He wants - and who are we? - should serve To show that we know better. She Untroubled by regrets, or Second-thoughts - first is best - And a fine-looking woman Who gave cigarettes to children - "These are for your mothers, or your fathers, who begat you, from wherever it was you came..." - who were Inarguably grateful, then Who turned them into angels Who were glad of the attention as she Trampled on their class Like a horse over glass, Who, using just her teeth Whittled the trunk of a Redwood To a toothpick Just to make a point: One hundred trumpets blast! One thousand violins! Ten miked-up marimbas blonk Plus one, enormous drum, played by A brawny ex-marine, with All-in, repeated swings of A limp Barracuda, here As this award, to her, we dedicate And, with the act Of the adding of the salt to the Eternal Soup of Nationhood, Last one of its kind, Forever in her name, enshrine Reserving, as is stated on the Label on the bottom of The marbled-bowl, the right To remove it should she prove - that is Should Mrs. Murphy show herself As she assured us, last year, she Would never, all-to-all, again - Unworthy of the title, an Embarrassment to those who would Bestow such honor on her Casting shame upon the name - her own A stain upon the trivet, if you will. So, rise, distinguished colleagues Swing the fish! arms-in-arms In military time Put your hands together, now, You ordinary ones And, with the least disruption, please Sit down, as with great gravity I call on you to join me, as I call upon our honoree, Who needs no introduction... - L.G. 'Citrique' When the sun went down, as if A lemon was an eyelid, So we cast our eyes toward The spilt-sugar stars. Everyone's a critic. Sorry if I stole the show! - L.G.
While followers of this site are, I’m sure, among the most loyal on the web, it is an inescapable fact that it has attracted very few followers thus far. With this in mind, and to encourage those who are, perhaps, on the fence, I would like to make a pledge.
I recently came into possession of five-hundred brand-new Sea-Doo RXP-X jet skis. My pledge is that if I get five-hundred new followers by tomorrow at 5:10am, which is when I leave the house, every single one of them will receive a brand-new Sea-Doo RXP-X jet ski.
I’ll even throw in a tank of gas!
Adam’s poems, this week, blustered in like a indignant neighbor.
'The Useful' I will temper any sword. Just let me take a sip of water. No, I'm not a smoker. That? It's steam. You pour me out A cup of those iron-filings, there I'll spit you up a cannonball. Feed me all your forks - voila. A silver apple. Watch it roll. I will temper any sword. I'm a swallower, you see, Of blackfire, many bushels of, And such hate, no bicarbonate In high waves, driven by the moon, Could soothe. What lit the light? A spark I ate, and ate, that This palace madness made Of paper, with a floor of straw, Kept up with twine and toothpicks should Not burn to set your gown ablaze, Blistering the whitest cheek, To horrify the clown, To make the strong man weak, Claim your horses, prancing, and The armor of your knight to streak. In black, with hands in worship tied, I accept this charge In the footsteps of my father. As my father followed his, as His father followed his, I was born to be a follower. Never saying very much For fear a breath of flame must loose, But, nonetheless, I have a fire For which there is but one just use, Of which one good can come: Give me all your scrap, and I, One-hundred trophies will expire. Pay me as you please. My Lord, and Ladyship, I am Your servant and your squire. Bid me to my knees, To close my eyes, and open wide The hatch, and down the slide. Give me but the word For keeping of the peace, or The starting of a war, I will temper any sword, Whatever you might need it for. - A.W. 'Standing For Election' I have stood for my beliefs. I have stood while I could stand, even When I could not stand it, and While standing was the only thing to do I have stood beside A friend, by myself, beside myself By my friend, and my word I have stood. Up-for, but not to - this is true. There were those for whom I stood For security. Something like a tree to Tower over - do you under? Let me state my case, again: Should a tree take-off some winter's day, Who makes tea? I have stood. I have been good. Though still on my feet, After all these years that I have stood, feels like a part of me Finally, sat down. - A.W.
Evidence I have gathered suggests that the least believable part of the following story is true. As someone once pointed out, it is a strange world.
'Pessimist' There's a fly on every wall. Occasionally, a moff. The wisest thing to do is to Assume it from the off: There's a fly in every room. You might as well accept it. You could swat a few, but, Just when you don't expect it, In a shower of glass, comes A-leaping through the window of A nursing home upon some sleepy Dear - a deer! Oh dear... and knocks The whole world on its ass. - A.R. 'McLean Co. Fairgrounds' In the margin of myself, I had nothing more to say. If you talk a good game, You don't even have to play. In the story of myself, I was the divider. If I was tied at one apiece, You were the decider. Mary Dreusel pressed the wrong Button on the test, which messed the Whole thing up - it's best, she stressed If you go home, and rest. I did, And in the garden of myself, I grew nothing new today. If I was a chance, I would throw myself away. Once, I had a job where I worked Every other two-to-ten, And I was always glad because I had the next day off, And I was always glum because I had to work tomorrow. Oh... You told me I was negative, Which proves: past every pale There's a bummer waiting, but The good is on its tail. - A.R.
Morality is holy. That is, full of holes. These we repair with justice. For example:
A man (Man A) drives through a small town at sixty miles-per-hour. The speed limit is thirty. At one point a young child, pushing his bicycle, steps into the road. Seeing the car, he steps back onto the sidewalk. The car drives on.
On the same day, at the same time, another man (Man B) drives through different small town at sixty miles-per-hour. The speed limit is thirty. At one point a young child, texting a friend on his phone, steps into the road. Failing to spot the approaching vehicle, which is traveling too swiftly to stop, he is hit and killed instantly.
Man A spends the afternoon drinking, drives home to sleep, and returns to his job the following day.
Man B is arrested at the scene, tried, and sentenced to life in prison.
In driving unsafely, both men committed the same crime. One man’s life is unaffected, while the other’s is effectively over. Man B feels that the death of the child was due to circumstances beyond his control. The judge calls this a “callous, and cowardly view of events.”
Because Man A’s crime had no consequence, his crime was not known of, and so could not be compared to that of Man B in court. We, however, know of both.
How should we judge Man A, and Man B?
Matt’s poems, this week, honked their horns before rounding the corner.
'The Lady With Thin Arms' He was driving, he would tell. Distracted, he would say, By unexpected motions - how An insect climbs a wall - Of the lady in the silver car With thin arms, and red sweater. The child ran out, he'd tell. I do not believe, he'd say, In Death that would pursue A child so quick. I believe, He would say, that Death Is the Lady with Thin Arms. - M.B. 'Ecnmy' yes thispoems clutterd if this poems clutterd itsbcause my mind is clutterd. thsiswhre th e wrld throws all its bones an d bottles dosnt mattr where I trn my ears and eys. thank yu - M.B.
Tall turned, in irritation, toward his hatless companion.
“Doolittle – that movie. The one with Ironman in it.”
“You were in ‘Ironman’?” asked Hatless.
“I was…” I began. The three looked immediately suspicious – “…not…was.”
“Was, not was?” said Hatless.
“Everybody walk the dinosaur…“
“Shut up,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing” I said. “Anyway, guys, nice to…”
“Can I have your autograph?” asked Short, producing a pen and an old fries box folded in two. As I signed the good doctor’s name, Hatless asked:
“So, like, what do you do?”
“Not much,” I replied. “Hey, it was nice meeting you, guys.” I handed him my forgery, and turned back to my lion friend.
“Later.”
As I walked away I heard a shout over my shoulder.
“Freak!”
Yes, but alive.
As for my three friends, their futures weren’t so bright. Some time later – according to Socrates – Tall and Short, along with Hatless, visited the zoo again. By the penguin enclosure, the pair got into a heated argument, during which Tall stabbed Short, who, despite his injury, managed to avail himself of a young male penguin and, utilizing the beak as weapon, stabbed Tall back. Both survived, and spent four, and two years in prison respectively, while Hatless became Head of Communications for the National Alliance of Debt-Recovery Agents.
This lion knows it all. I mean, as far as I know.
Miaow,
J.R.
@saymoco
Go vote. Go vote in a coat. Ride a goat. Cross the moat in a boat. Fill several hundred helium balloons, hold tight to them and float. Take the moment by the throat, and vote.
The Morning Corporation **** 