Super Sale on Wizard Gizzards

Fifty cents a wizard gizzard!

One-time sale for super cheap!

Taste like dirt and smell like hamster

Come and grab some from my heap!

Are they fresh and never frozen?

You can bet your broom they are!

Highly potent, always local

Never gathered from afar

What’s the use of wizard gizzards?

Well, combined with skin of newt,

They thicken earwax, give you warts

And make your tongue fall out, to boot!

So hurry— grab your wizard gizzards

Quick! They’re flying off the shelves!

Don’t wait, or you’ll be forced to buy at
Marked up prices from the elves.

A Holiday Invitation

On the stovetop, soup is bubbling

In the oven, baking bread

In the cellar, wine is aging

On the roof, a severed head

‘Round the windows, lights are twinkling

In the playroom, children play

In the bathrooms, incense burning

In the yard, the corpses sway

‘Neath the table, cat is sleeping

On the walls hang works of art

Near the stove, the clock is ticking

In the fridge, a human heart

Won’t you come and pay a visit?

Won’t you have some soup and bread?

There’ll be wine and brandy flowing

Please don’t mind the severed head

See the lights? They’re up for Christmas!

Tim’s toy car goes ‘toot toot toot’

Please do come and pay a visit

Just ignore the trees’ strange fruit

When the wine and brandy finish

We’ll all play a game of bridge

For dessert, we’ll all have cookies

Just don’t eat what’s in the fridge.

The Fridge Owl

I found an old owl nestled up in my fridge

He was nibbling on ham bones and jam

“Who are you? What are you?” I asked, and he squawked:

“I’m a fridge owl! Indeed, that I am!”

Then the fridge owl proceeded to open a jar

With a powerful twist of his talon

“You’ll be needing more jam,” he said calmly. “At least

Three more quarts. Or, more likely, a gallon.”

“Now hold it!” I said. “I work hard for my jam!

You can’t eat it! Why, you’re just a bird!”

But the fridge owl just buried his beak in the jam

And pretended that he hadn’t heard.

“You get out!” I said then. “This is my fridge and house!

And the stealing of food I forbid!”

“Buy more jam,” said the owl, “and more ham bones as well.”

And the funny part is, well, I did.

I drove off to the store like a man in a trance

And I bought jam and bones, just because

The fridge owl had told me to. Boy, it was strange!

I almost forgot who I was.

Then when I got back, I re-opened the fridge

And the fridge owl was there, pleased as punch

“A-ha!” he exclaimed. “More ham bones and jam!

Those will do very well for my lunch!”

I nodded, half-dazed, as I put in the food

And the fridge owl pulled shut the fridge door

Then my head felt all fuzzy and woozy and odd

So I curled up and napped on the floor.

When I finally woke up, I thought: “Fridge owl?!

Good grief! That must have been part of a dream!”

But I opened the fridge, and you know what I saw?

That darn bird, with its claws in the cream!

“I sometimes like cream,” said the owl, “But ham bones

And jam, well, I like those the most.”

“But what about me?” I cried, “What do I eat?”

And the owl said, “Cold juice and hot toast.”

“I do like hot toast,” I said, licking my lips

And the owl found the bread and said, “Here.

You should heat up the griddle and toast it on that.

Go on, do it! You’ve nothing to fear.”

That did not sound half bad, and my stomach agreed

It was time for a good evening meal

So I toasted the bread and drank grape juice, ice-cold

And the fridge owl asked, “How do you feel?”

“Much better,” I said, and the fridge owl said, “Good.”

And he clawed off another jar’s lid

“I’ll be here eating jam,” he said. “You go to bed.”

“Yes, fridge owl,” I said, and I did.

In the morning, I opened the fridge for some milk

“Not milk!” clucked the owl. “Worse than candy!

Have cold grape juice and hot griddle toast,” he proclaimed.

“And see if you don’t feel just dandy.”

I had grape juice and hot griddle toast, like he said

And I felt sudden vigor and pep

“Cold grape juice and hot griddle toast!” I declared

“Why, it puts such a spring in my step!”

When I came home for lunch, the owl had already

Heated the toast on the griddle

I washed it all down with cold grape juice and felt

Once again, just as fit as a fiddle!

When I came home for dinner, the owl declared:

“More cold grape juice and hot toast for you!

Then you’ll sleep like a baby, and wake feeling fresh!”

And by gum, it turned out to be true!

For the rest of the month, ice cold grape juice and toast

Was all that the owl recommended

At the end of each meal, he asked, “How do you feel?”

And the truth was I felt bloody splendid!

My relatives noticed a change in my health

Especially my Great Aunt Marlene

“You’re glowing!” she said. “Have you fallen in love?

You’re as healthy and stout as a bean!”

“You must get a fridge owl,” I told Aunt Marlene

“What?! That doesn’t sound real!” Auntie said

“Oh he is,” I insisted, “Come over and see!

He’s as real as the hat on my head!”

So I took Auntie home and I opened the fridge

“Hello fridge owl!” I said. “Meet Marlene!”

I rifled through food jars and old Ziploc bags

But nowhere could my fridge owl be seen!

Aunt Marlene raised an eyebrow and patted my head

And left without saying a word

So I ran off to purchase more ham bones and jam

In hopes I could lure back my bird.

But the days turned to weeks; jam and ham bones untouched

And the weeks sadly turned into years

“Poor old fridge owl,” I thought, as I sipped on my juice

And my toast became dampened with tears.

For although he was curt and demanding at first

He was easy to please—bones and jam

And the first time he squawked, why, the words echo still:

“I’m a fridge owl! Indeed, that I am!”

Three-Paw Cat

Three-paw cat
Limp down the road
She try to catch
A web-foot toad.
The toad escape
The cat say, “Darn.”
At home, she wreck Georgina’s yarn.
“You dumb old cat!”
Georgina shout.
Knife. Thwack. Blood. Howl.
And cat run out.

Two-paw cat
Limp down the street
Scan gutters for
Old hunks of meat.
Eat rotten beef
And ladybug
At home, she vomit on the rug.
“You dumb old cat!”
Georgina shout.
Knife. Thwack. Blood. Howl.
And cat run out.

One-paw cat
Can hardly scoot
Along the road
To look for fruit.
She find no fruit
She feel so grouch
At home, she one-paw claw the couch.
“You dumb old cat!”
Georgina frown.
Knife. Thwack. Blood. Howl.
And cat fall down.

No-paw cat
Can barely crawl
Her feet are stumps
She often fall.
She drag her pawless legs along
She feel so sad, she make up song:
“No paw, boo hoo,” the lyric go
Georgina laugh
'cause cat so slow.
“No paw, boo hoo,” the lyric go
The saddest song
you'll ever know.

The You and Me Bucket

Here we are stuck in the you and me bucket
We tried to get out once, but then we said fuck it
A bucket's a fine place to be for us two
There's a chair here for me and a chair here for you
There's not room for much else, but what else would we need?
You're already wearing your suit of green tweed
I'm already wearing my slippers and gown
So why would I grumble or hem-haw and frown?
We're complete! And I don't miss the non-bucket world
Where A-bombs and H-bombs and F-bombs are hurled
It's scary out there, but it's safe here with you
It's extremely unlikely that we'll catch the flu
It's our very own quarantine, isn't it grand
That my one occupation is holding your hand
Shucks, this you and me bucket will suit us just fine
'Cause the time that we spend here is just yours and mine.

Cursing in impervious carrot shacks

Cursing in impervious carrot shacks
Eunuchs
Bat leather
Gold
You can curse these things and more in your carrot shack
The orange, none say, is calming

&$:&))@/!!"--!
-$)?.,?-&#}_]>"
#*%%!!?~~!\€<$(@!

And if, in your fit of rage, you break your fist on carrots
pop a forehead vein
the fault is yours
do not eat yourself out
they are impervious both ways.

A Day in the Life of an Orphanage Director

The orphans are hungry, the weeds should be picked

The clock on the wall ticks its third-to-last tick

I can’t find my suitcase, my pitbull is ill

It's cloudy and damp and the air has a chill

I’m nervous; I chew on my lips ‘til they’re bleeding

The orphans are pounding, demanding their feeding

The office is locked, but quite soon they’ll break through

They shout, “Give us our crackers and hot carrot stew!”

“Pick the weeds and eat those!” I say. “I’m too upset

To feed orphans. So the weeds’ all’s the dinner you’ll get!”

But the orphans break in, and one carries a brick

The clock on the wall ticks its third-to-last tick

He beats in my brains and he leaves me for dead

My sick pitbull whines, licks the blood from my head

They break into the pantry, steal chocolates and fruits

They break into my closet, try on my best suits

“Call the doctor!” I gasp to one orphan—quite young

Who stands still, watching Spark lick my wounds with his tongue

“I will call,” says the child. “Please don’t die.” (I feel flattered).

The ambulance comes and the orphan boys scattered

I'm taken to hospital, into E.R.

I wake up two hours later; my scalp has a scar

And my hospital gown has a pattern of stripes

At the window, the orphans shake long metal pipes,

And they’re chanting, “You bastard! You give us our stew!”

And I’m sweating, lip-biting, don’t know what to do

So I think of the weeds that have grown in the grass

But the orphans break in, they have smashed through the glass

They’re about to attack, when ol’ Sparky appears

And he’s snarling so vicious it vibrates his ears

With his razor sharp teeth he bites ankles and shins

The orphans, scared shitless, leap out of their skins

They escape through the window, and never come back

And Sparky curls up, warm and proud, on my lap

“Oh, sweet Spark, you got better!” I say, “You’re not sick!”
And the clock on the wall ticks its third-to-last tick.