Wresting Joy From Daily Pickles
A pickle I wanted, and yet that darn lid
Laughingly mocked me, refusing to budge
And so I cried "Help!" to that muscleman, Sid
But he wrested the thing not a nudge
Sid told me to fetch the gun we kept hid
(And whate'er he commanded I usually did!)
I approached the jar with said gun in my hand
And it noticed - but flinched not a whit
With rage I now glared and took up my stand
On the label I saw it was writ:
"To open, unscrew in reverse on demand"
"O Pickles," I muttered, "Your wish, my command..."
I threw all my strength into one mighty twist
I yanked in reverse, as required
But the only result was a badly sprained wrist
Now in pain and despair was I mired
I had been by a pickle jar dissed!
Could my finger the trigger resist?
'Twas then the pickle jar shouted "No, wait!"
My finger stopped dead in its tracks
I was knocked for a loop by this odd twist of fate
(Bluntly speaking, I soiled my slacks)
But then as my shock did abate
I was rocked! - it said "Turn it now, Mate."
With a firm grip I wrestled and I twisted
I felt the lid start to give way
Poco a poco ... it scarcely resisted!
And I cried out, "Huzzah!" and "Hurray!"
But to take the first bite Sid insisted
Fat chance, Sid - the pickles had misted!
"What magical gherkins, indeed!" we exclaimed
"You sure took us for a ride!"
We were so ecstatic to see they'd been tamed
That we missed the small genie beside
The small poltergeist (who shall be unnamed)
On whom the entire debacle was blamed
"One wish!" boomed the imp, and we spied it at last
His sourpuss. Sid and I mused
A pickle I wanted - and wanted it fast!
Just one wish? I now felt abused
And Sid, just like me, felt harassed
(Our overawed mood had soon passed)
"A pickle I wish for!" - I blurted it out
And at once I regretted my words
For that Sourpuss imp started hopping about
"NOT PICKLES! - I grant whey and kurds!"
Our wishes it seemed he would flout
So Sid grabbed him, and chomped on the sprout!
Sid wrestled the genie with all of his might
Famished, I gaped as they tussled
Should I or shouldn't I join in the fight?
If I did, would we both be out-muscled?
'Twas then I grabbed hold of that wee impish wight
And I bit off his head! Yuck, he tasted ... just right!
Contributors: | Kansas Sam, Karin, F, archaeopteryx, Anon.. |
Poem finished: | 5th February 2004 by Karin. |