It was a spider
I saw a spider
Oh, how I HATE spiders
I hear them, see, them, feel them…
To be honest, I fear them
Their venom races through the blood
Paralyzing, weakening, killing, gone
If I run, will it find me?
If I kill it, are there more?
How can you escape what is barely seen?
How can you end what has always been?
To face my fear?
Or run from here?
To kill the bug, or cease to slug?
I squashed that spider
I beat that bug!
What I didn’t think about,
the time I wasted pondering,
it’s now no longer light out
in the dark, I must go wandering.
Until I reach the end of the wood
Or when dawn’s silver light shines
I trudge like my gut says I should
Reach the end I wish I could
A safe place, that sounds good
But this darkness is my hood

I can’t escape this horrid place!
Where to breathe? There is no space!
I find a tree and rest at its base
I cannot win, I quit this race
Around my neck I tie a shoelace
And then the blood leaves my face
I’ll have no coffin, no resting case
My spirit cracked, like a vase.

My heart is dead, gone is its beat
At the bottom of that tree, my resting seat

On my soul, St. Peter, please take pity!
Don’t cast me from this holy city!
Allow me here, please, to rest
I know I never was the best, but I never killed a man
I never truly caused much strife,
I was always faithful to my wife,
I never threatened to use a knife
I don’t deserve to go to hell!
Don’t hit that button, don’t ring that bell! I don’t deserve to go to hell
That night was long, my spirit fell
My need for sleep, I could not quell
My case to you I now must sell,
Or put your under some dark spell
I cannot, WILL NOT go to hell!

His reply to me was short and sweet
The life from him, I would not beat
My final act, out my spirit would not keep
When my soul, he said he’d reap
About my death, he would not peep

Now a release from fear I shall not seek
The future no longer seems so bleak
Though my body will rot and reek
My spirit shall soar never reaching a peak

And now because that spider I am dead
And at my funeral what will be said?
I’ll dwell on that later, it’s time for bed.
I lay myself down and rest my head
Gone is that day I cast my life away
Into eternity, I sail away.

Unknown "Pimpasaurus" Rabid - 16 years, 10 months, 26 days ago

Covert Cooking
“Alpha team, are you in position?”
“Affirmative, Bravo leader, is the target preoccupied?”
“Another affirmative, is operation meatball a go?”
“I’m getting tired of saying affirmative, so, uhhh yeah. And Operation meatball is a go!”
“Roger that, Alpha leader, I’m now moving into position.”

Okay, so it’s not quite like that, but cooking meatballs in my house sometimes is like a covert operation. My older brother is like a vacuum when it comes to properly prepared Italian food, he really is. My father bought the meat without telling him, I had to mix the oregano, dill weed, garlic, onions, olive oil, egg, breadcrumbs and a plethora of other ingredients that I don’t want to share with anyone, and I had to do all this before David realized I was gone. After a while, I sat at my computer, so he wouldn’t notice anything strange, it was great. The next part was a bit trickier because it takes a bit longer to cook than prepare, so I had to do it delicately. Every half hour I had to come back and ignore my cooking food, which is a HUGE no-no, but I had to do it, for the sake of not letting him know that there were meatballs on the stove, for he would eat all of them before tomorrow’s meal of spaghetti, meatballs, and chicken. It took me two hours of cooking and sneaking to finish the meatballs properly, and although some of them burned, it was okay, because David didn’t know about it. I wrapped them up tight, and hid them deep in the fridge, and then cleaned the pans, so as to hide all the evidence.
It was two hours later when my father jeopardized the entire operation! “Hey Thom, did you cook meatballs?”
HOURS! WASTED! THINK QUICK!
“No, dad, I did not!”
“What was that?”
“Nothing, David, put your headphones back on, I’ll handle it.”
I fleetingly ran down the steps to my dad, miming “gag it”, “cut it”, and “STOOOOOP!”
“Dad, I’m sorry, but if he finds out about the meatballs, I’ll lose them all, I can’t have that, we need them all for tomorrow”
“Okay, calm down, I understand, I just didn’t see any mess…”
“I cleaned it” I replied proudly
“Be still my foolish soul”
“Tomorrow, I’m cooking the chicken, don’t tell David a word!”
After this close call, I removed the chicken from the freezer to thaw it overnight. In the back of the fridge I hid it, completely out of sight.
Four PM: I begin to cook the meal. The chicken is now sizzling on the pan, the aroma of the garlic and other herbs fill the house. My brother gets the hint that I’m cooking and I begin treading on thin ice.
“What’s cooking?” he yells down at me.
“Chicken. It’ll be done in a few hours!” I thought I had diverted him rather well, because he didn’t run down to eat my food. I remove the meatballs from their clever hiding spot and dump them in a pot of sauce that my father had frozen a month ago. I breaded the chicken, boiled the spaghetti, and warmed the sauce. The only thing left to do was call down the beast.
“Hey, Dave, I have dinner ready!”
“I’ll be right down”… “You made meatballs and didn’t tell me?!?!?!”
Sweet satisfaction.

Unknown "Pimpasaurus" Rabid - 16 years, 10 months, 26 days ago

By reading anything I write, you are submitting yourself to airport-like security searches, patriot act rights, and more background checks than are legal in the United States. Oh, wait, PATRIOT ACT ! This is something I’ve written, by the way, so you’ve just accepted all terms of agreement. On a more serious note, please accept my dearest apologies if you are mentioned in anything I ever write, because they are all my opinion or how I perceived the situation, it may not be the facts that you remember. Oh, and I offend you in any way, I’m sorry, but there’s really nothing I can do about that.
Unknown "Pimpasaurus" Rabid - 16 years, 10 months, 26 days ago