'Twas late, late night or early morn
And I still awake, lay pondering a shower.
A bother, oh yes, but my freezing feet
Insisted on the warmth of some water.
So off to the shower, I went with some glee
With a smile, with the hope
Of not freezing to death in me.
It was warm, it was nice, it was most pleasant
When I turned to the door
And what did I see?
What did I see to my utmost horror?
A bug, a foul bug
One as big as a finger,
Only fatter, much fatter
And looking far meaner.
What to do, what to do?
It was right on the door,
But not just the door,
Oh no, this bug was a thinker
It was standing on the hinge
and touching the frame.
I was trapped, trapped
And this foul bug was to blame.
Having lost all my reason,
Not a clue what to do
I mustered my courage and yelled,
Paul, I need you!
But the brave sir kinght Paul
Was not quite in ear distance,
So he arose from his screen
And said,
What? I can't hear you.
I'll just come to you.
Don't open the door! I shrieked and hollered
For all I could see
Was the bug flying at me.
But that brave sir knight Paul said
Don't be absurd,
Not another word
What do you really expect me to do?
I just can't sit here and let it eat you.
So in rushed the Paul and out rushed the I
As Paul fought it mightly,
With the shoe and the stick
Landing many a blow
Against his unfortunate foe.
And at the end of the night
/beginning of morn,
The bug he had safely hacked off the door,
Was now in fine pieces and cleaned off the floor,
And deposited in tissue and, I trust
Will be seen nevermore.
And that, in a life-scarringly vivid example, is why I don't write poetry. Ever. (Except now.) Anyway, it was a singularly traumatic event--really ruined a nice shower--and it did take Paul probably a good five minutes to kill it. (According to him, it ended up not so much in pieces as in a fine paste.) And he really did have to use both a stick and a shoe to battle it. Also, it happened at 3:00 am. I felt given the size of the bug, circumstances, and the fact that it took a lot of effort to dispatch said bug, Paul had exceeded the traditional husband bug-killing expectations and thus deserved a commemorative epic poem.
4 comments:
"Thank You, Paul"
Our Paul is great,
He did not hesitate.
He rushed the bathroom door,
Took that bug right to the floor.
The battle did ensue,
With heart and stick and shoe.
We thank him once again,
For rescuing Princess Jenn!
Would loved to have seen a picture of the beast!
Why did you take a shower at 3 am?
Nice job on the bug killing, Paul, the stick was a nice idea. And no, I am not answering in verse. I get enough of that in English.
Because I wasn't sleepy and it was cold and a nice, hot shower sounded good.
I love the poem! I feel the same way whenever I see a bug: where is my husband?! You should've taken a picture of it before killing it, but I do understand the urgency to have it dead. Probably because it was 3 am and everything is always more exciting and 3 am. Anyway this is Paul's cousin Peggy in case you have no idea who I am. It appears like you guys are having quite the adventures across the world. I hope they continue to be enjoyable!
Peggy
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