Mayhap, I Slipped Upon A Poe
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"Mayhap, I Slipped Upon A Poe"
by: Wes Robert Ward
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary\u2026. Wait? This is not how it's supposed to go? Mayhap, I slipped upon a Poe? Oh alas, I shall never know, within throughout a gentle stroll in yonder scary cemetery in where I wobbly go.
And so thought Geoffrey Oxenby as he sat among the dead, clearing the cobwebs from inside his head, he took note upon the dark dreary night that colored the graveyard in where he had settled on stone bench so light upon whom not much long ago many widows took so much sorrowful woe.
Oxenby as he liked to be referred by and by, said to no one in particular, per whether to him or her or whatever, "Good evening to no end, my dear departed friends. Such a night as this should be celebrated immensely, don't you think? Time for a little drink."
Oxenby pulled out a bottle of the bubbly and poured himself a champagne glass then took a spontaneous sip which dripped from his lip, "Ah yes, it wets the whistle so to speak, just enough to play hide and seek. It fizzles and sizzles, and sparkles and gargles. It creates a mystical world of illusion without to much confusion."
Not a sound from the dead, only the crickets chirp to his belch and burp. Oxenby likes to think of it as an applause to his ears. Raising his glass he says, "Cheers."
Oxenby full of pure pride places his glass by his side and clasps his hands together as he smiles upon the headstones from his graveyard throne, "Now, my entities of the night, not to be contrite, how now are you? For I have been away for some time, mind you, and well, a few days and weeks or so\u2026 and low and behold, are there any new chums about? Please, do not be bold for I like to be truthfully told without no doubt."
No one speaks. Why? Probably because they're dead, so to speak or shy. The latter is what Oxenby would proclaim. Or just about the same.
Oxenby replies as he points his finger nearby, "What say you, Nathaniel Berkowitz? Whom passed away from probably rotten armpits. Are there any newcomers to our party here? Perhaps a grazing dead decomposing deer? Look out, Abigail Gowers, some dandy might want to get randy in your coffin tonight\u2026 could be an undead hermaphrodite."
Oxenby stood and held his drink to them all while holding his alcohol, "Here's a blissful toast, to all you ghosts with the most. I say now and how, who wants to rest in peace and wither away into prosperity when you all can join me as an honorary guest at Bambi's Burlesque House tomorrow night to take in the sight and help me scare those ladies out of their knickers quicker."
Oxenby took his last drink and belched like a Welchman on gin, "Oh dear, out of the bubbly, so suddenly. Ladies and Gentlemen, I take my leave of you. Adieu, adieu, until tomorrow night, adieu\u2026. now off I go to urinate in the street by the stop sign that holds me up\u2026 ah yup."
And off Oxenby went wobbling here and there out of the cemetery to stop and pee by a sign that tells him to stop. Each letter mingled together in a blur and before he knew it, he was looking at her, "Oh alas, a tingle in my middle toe, oh you're lovely\u2026. Marilyn Monroe."
And as the nightly air filled with the constant rattle of a stop sign being molested\u2026 something else nearby was being manifested.
Abigail spiritually said, "Talking to the dead? Screwing a stop sign? Is there no drawn line? Yet more myths that are so urban."
Nathaniel says from inside his grave, "Quite naive in this suburban, I myself prefer bourbon."
The End. \ud83c\udf7e
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