Bug Killer

This is not a poem as much as self-therapy, from watching the great white hunter track down and kill a poor, defenseless housefly.

My wife saw a fly in the house.
She knocked his wings off.
Now, he is a walk.

(I love that joke!)

It was time to relax a bit.
I was lying in my bed one night,
I was trying to go to sleep.
A buzzing gave me quite a fright.

I looked up at the ceiling.
A fly circled around my head.
I really don’t like flies.
But my wife wants him dead.

I try to say “Live and let live.”
My wife says “Live and let die.”
She has her trusty swatter.
My wife will kill this little fly.

She started swinging wildly.
The dog dove under the bed.
They don’t like her swatter.
I pulled the covers over my head.

Next stanza is in Phil Rizzuto’s voice.
Swing! .. and a miss!
Swing! .. and a miss!
Wow! That one’s outta here!

A fly never flies in a straight line.
Unless, propelled by swatter.
In that case, it’s a fast, straight line.
Leading it to the slaughter.

My wife killed a little fly.
I wish that it would fall.
If it hangs on until morning,
I will scrape it off the wall.

NaPoWriMo 2020

A month of poems has gone away.
I think I only missed one day.
I never wrote about my spouse.
Hell, I barely ever left my house.

Please don’t shed another tear.
I’ll be back again next year.
Deadlines make me write each day.
Even when quality goes astray.

Stay six feet apart,
Keep your hands clean.
I want to do this again,
While not in quarantine.

Crack of Dawn

One last meeting
Before I can go home.
But I’m in India,
So it’s your first meeting.

Video conferencing is the bomb.
Teams can be anywhere,
And still can get together.
The world is one conference room.

It’s 5:30pm in Bangalore.
It’s 2:00pm in Budapest.
It’s 7:00am in Dallas.
We can still all meet.

I’m the one in Dallas.
I haven’t had enough coffee.
There may not be enough coffee.
Time zones are a bitch.

Alien Abduction

It’s the God’s honest truth.
You can ask my wife, Ruth.
I was abducted.
I flew into space.

I can still barely speak,
And it happened last week.
Up to a spacecraft.
Up in outer space.

I car pooled to my job,
With my dear old friend Rob.
When we saw something
Flash on the roadside.

We both got out to look,
Ended up on a hook,
And a tractor beam
Took us into space.

I felt close to my death,
As I struggled for breath.
I started to pray,
Rob just wet his pants.

The craft was long and wide,
It was shiny inside.
There were aliens
At least three or four.

The boss was a large blob,
Who was poking at Rob.
While a tall female
Kept poking at me.

There was a silver tray,
With bodies on display.
They were the  victims
So, I just played dead.

A woman measured Rob,
Who’s a bit of a slob,
And she handed him 
To one with a knife.

I made myself seem small,
And I’m not really tall.
The boss measured me
And looked very sad.

Said, “He’s eight inches, Bill”
“But I would keep him still.”
Then, I heard Bill say,
“He’s over the side.”

The alien dropped me.
And as I floated free,
I wondered what had
Happened to poor Rob.

I gently floated down.
Finally landed in town.
Then, I didn’t know 
What I should do next.

I went on into work,
But I felt like a jerk.
So I went back home,
And cried in my bed.

So, a lesson hard-won,
To remember, my son.
Don’t always believe 
Everything you see.

While something looks nice,
You must always think twice.
While worms are tasty,
They’re not from the sea.