Read Omar 5 here (see “Similar Posts” at the bottom of this post for any earlier entries)
Round 6 Challenge: Incorporate a White Russian and the words “over the line” into your next passage, which should be no more than 500 words.
As Don Don spoke a star shot by
Across the moonless night;
So what, it’s dark, don’t be surprised;
It’s not like it’s first light.
The birds and beasts did long ago
Depart when Claus stopped singing;
They went alone, one by one;
They hadn’t come for swinging.
“No, rat Don, don’t tag along,
Just join me at my side;
I neither lead nor follow;
That’s how the Claus abides.”
The rat Don Don looked up at Claus:
“Dude, man, don’t go freaking;
All I meant was let’s chill out,
It’s just a way of speaking.”
“Sorry, Don, I’m all strung out,
I’ve got this song to write;
I’ve got to post by midnight
On this website called Fourth Night.”
Don Don he did stare at him;
Not quite, his eyes were rolling.
“What the fuck you talking about?
Fuck it, let’s go bowling.”
But Claus he was still hesitant:
“I have to write my tune,
And finish it by midnight;
I wish I had till noon.”
Don Don then rolled up a spliff
Of sweet dank chronic goo:
“They call this bud ‘White Russian’;
Just try it, you’ll breeze through.”
Claus began to worry
About his rat-faced chum,
Who claimed a royal lineage
But acted like a bum.
“The bums will always lose” is what
His dad did always say.
But Don Don passed the spliff to him,
“Go on, dude, puff away.”
So Claus he took a monster drag;
He sputtered, coughed and hacked,
Then giggled, laughed, chiggled, chaffed,
His mind was totalled, wacked.
“Let’s go bowl,” Claus told Don Don,
His eyeballs veiny slits;
So much for his task at hand:
He’s shotgunning a Schlitz.
Don’t ask where they went to bowl,
These stoners: boy and rat;
Stranger things have happened;
Just ask the Cheshire Cat.
First they had to get their shoes;
Osama manned the desk;
Saddam was fired from that job;
How very Kafkaesque.
(Actually they hung him;
You probably saw the clip;
But no need to get into that;
Let’s not go jumping ship.)
“Over the line!” Claus did scream out
At rat Don as he bowled.
“This aggression will not stand, man,”
Said Don Don as he rolled.
Claus had really lost his wits:
The herb was much too strong;
No surprise that on his turn
Events turned badly wrong.
Claus held up the bowling ball;
He licked it for good luck;
But on the backswing it did slip
His grip, oh, what a schmuck.
Alas, Don Don behind him
Was itching at a gnat
When the backflung ball did land
Upon him with a splat.
No moral to this passage;
No message that we bring,
Except one thing we’d like to say:
Good night, sweet prince, sweet king.
So what of Claus, what shall he do?
Again he is alone;
Again he lost a friend of his,
Alone, he must atone.
Leave him to his world of pain
In hopes that he does draw
Some music from the well of grief
To end this hem and haw.