Tea Party and Other Poems

The Mob

On the 6th of June, when the bells tolled

Six times,

The whole village was filled with panic, boil,

And hatters

Of course.

An unknown epidemic had taken hold,

Turning policemen into instruments,

Rappers into romantic poets,

And a few children into pasta.

In need of answers,

A mob was formed,

And the blame was put on an

Italian doctor who lived

Not too near

The Central Square.

The mob, armed with toothpicks, forks

And spare high-heels,

Marched up to the doctor's front door,

Singing the national anthem until

He came out,

Dressed in a Persian blue suit

And mauve socks.

The villagers

Bit him everywhere, even his hair,

Then proceeded to poke, lick, and stamp.

Every time the doctor cried out,

Someone

Would burp to smother the sound,

While the zookeeper was ordered

To bring his apple green ostriches,

And make them peck him.

(His wife was also dragged out,

And stabbed on the spot,

With a few silver forks.)

Not satisfied,

Someone

Suggested in swinging him around

At the top of the village tower.

They did this until the rope broke.

Due to tangential velocity and gravity too,

The doctor crash-landed

Into the children's playground.

The mob, who followed him,

Proceeded in bashing him around,

Sticking toothpicks into his belly

And under his armpits.

Not satisfied,

Someone

Decided to dig his eyes out and stuff

Roses in his mouth.

After screeching a

Muffled

Italian curse,

The doctor gave up the ghost.

Not satisfied,

Someone

Proposed in shaping the victim's body into

A French horn.

Then the mob painted him yellow,

Stuck furry stickers all over,

And spilled soda in his eye sockets.

Not satisfied,

Someone

Declared that the best way to end the epidemic

Was to eat him.

They started roasting the doctor,

While the village cook prepared fish sauce.

Everyone, even the remaining children,

Got a small bite.

It took

The mayor, some professors, a horrible violinist

And an army of spoons,

To disperse the mob.

When the epidemic eventually left,

The villagers realized what they had done,

And begged for forgiveness.

The doctor was canonized,

Songs were composed in his honor,

People wailed his name in the streets.

(A few mentioned his wife

But nothing was made for her.)

In memory of him,

A golden monument decorated with rubies and emeralds

Was constructed on the children's playground,

Covered in roses.

But a few years later,

When the epidemic struck again,

Another mob was formed,

And it went for an

Opera singer.