Le Toilette

October 1, 2018

You see, my toilet,

It’s a heck of a place!

OUTPUT is written on the doorstep

And I get the unusual company out here.

 

One of them has an extra set of hands.

I get confused most of the time

Which one to shake from;

Yet I say, HELLO!

 

His damn smile (mischievous like a five-year-old kid

And at times cold as if hatching underneath.)

Always looking for AMBUSH;

He sits drinking from his cup, knitting cobwebs.

 

The other one, a brunette.

She stays a hundred feets away from men.

DAMN THIS MISANDRIST, they say.

Always going round and round the bathtub.

 

I get really scared when she is around.

Many times I imagined getting her killed.

But nobody is up for it in the group:

I never step in the bathtub when she is around.

 

I fear that she would creep in too and suck my blood.

THAT’S WHAT WOMEN DO, they commented.

We all laughed. It’s a common joke amongst us.

I would say, a popular one instead.

 

Besides, there is something else for entertainment.

Every other day we get to see a fight.

It is always that damn butler

And Mr cold smile.

 

Lately, I have heard that he has already murdered two.

Either the butler is mad or he doesn’t care about his wife

Who would be widowed as soon as he gets himself killed.

(I am clueless about the saint who is running this government)

 

The last two were found dead, strangled by the throat.

So did the officers reported from the antenna upon their head.

IT’S THE FAULT OF THE BUTLER, the people here say.

They never served him the right drink.

 

Anyway, what can I do if the saint cannot?

I just moved to set myself in relief.

Here you may find all sorts of cut-throats, nitwits and pricks.

I just wonder when it’s the brunettes’ turn.

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