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The Fortieth Slice

Dear Reader,

I am VERY sorry that I haven’t blogged in over ten days. But I have my reasons. So here is a neatly typed out list of excuses why I haven’t touched the keyboard for the past week and a half;

1] The whole family went off to Manhattan for seven days ‘just for the heck of it’ and left me all alone. I tried to switch on the desktop, but failed, due to the password you have to type in order to access the desktop. Darn.

2] I have been spending all my waking hours playing AngryBirds:Space on the iPad [which is, THANKFULLY, not password protected]

3] I am too lazy

In order to make up for the absence, though, I have composed THREE -yes, you heard right- poems, for you to enjoy. Well, I won’t be exposing the second one just yet because it is too embarrassing -the real reason is that it doesn’t actually exist- but I definitely will let you take a look at the others.

Here you go:

The Workaholic

Seven to eleven

Everyday

I sit and my desk

And type away

Charts and documentary files

Writing, writing, piles and piles

Eyes feel drowsy

Going to close

But I can risk

A shortened doze

I yawn, my mouth

stretching wide

There is nobody with whom

To confide

Stare at the monitor

Alphabets spin

The music makes a 

Retching din

I want to stop

And huff away

But a force just

Makes me stay

The boss comes round

To check the works

I hear him as his being

Lurks

I want to quit

And just go hom

To my doggie who is

All alone

My fingers twitch

My shoulders itch

My eyes flutter

My legs shudder

How I miss the

Fun and Frolic

I had before 

The workaholic

Took over me 

And made me one

A monster and a 

Walking pun

With laughter gone

And work instead

All I am now 

Is dead, is dead.

See?? I true work of art, isn’t it? About the next poem which I’m supposed to unveil… well, the truth is, I didn’t write it. Taylor did. But I found it lying on one of the sofas, so I picked it up and kind of liked it.

Well, it’s nothing compared to MY masterpieces, but it is good. For an amateur, that is. It’s really short to. Like, two lines. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but its REAL small, so don’t expect a thousand word piece.

Here:

 Mutt

She sits and licks her rear end

Glued-to-spot all day

From the beginning of the frosty year to

Halfway through May

Her ears flip strangely

And her snout is turning pink

She also is too lazy

To go and fetch a drink

But she’s mine and I love her

More than I can tell

Oh, sweet mutt of mine

Please break the spell!

That’s it. I assume the “mutt” is me, but she’s got her facts all wrong. I’m no “mutt.” I’m a purebred Pedigree Labrador, who’s proud to be thirty-seventh cousin of the Queen herself, so THERE!!

Oops, looks like I’ve got to stop now. My tummy’s rumbling AND I think I’ve been sitting on a squashed tomato this whole time. Just great.

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