Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

Sergeant Shriek 4--23 Whitewash Lane

Poetry By: Mike Stevens
Humor


The 4th poem in the Sergeant Shriek series


Submitted:Aug 18, 2011    Reads: 7    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


23 Whitewash Lane

By Mike Stevens

A Sergeant Shriek Poem

At long last, Sergeant Salacius Shriek's long day

was through. Training raw, moronic recruits to keep the mistakes at bay

was a losing proposition, but in the fridge was a beer

with his name on it at 23 Whitewash Lane, plus a little T.V., near-

ly made up for the crap that was piled high

upon his plate at work; just why

he continued to do training work for the military,

was a mystery to him. "Is that you, Salacius? See

that lawn? It's an embarrassment for all

the neighbors to see!" he heard from the hall

as he came though the door. "Do you think

you could haul your dead a** out there, instead of drink-

ing yourself into oblivion?" Oh crap, it

was the screech of his wife, Stella. Apparently, he was in deep s**t

again! He was instantly reminded of why,

and at this thought he gave a little sigh,

he was still training new recruits as a job,

it was still preferable to home, where he was called a lazy slob

by the sea hag he was married to,

besides, hate it or not, it was all he knew

how to do. "Get your butt up and get out in

the yard, before it gets too dark to see, you've been

slacking on doing anything around here;

Come on, finish, or put down that beer!" Fear

of what the sea hag would do next if he

failed to listen to her filled his heart; she

could be a monster; He got right

up, and dragged himself into the yard, out of her sight!

He didn't feel much like mowing,

but to shut her up, he kept on going

Back and forth, the mower went,

while Salacius, in anger, sent

the machine over the grassy ground

At least the mower's harsh sound

drowned out Stella's whining

He was already not looking forward to dining

with her, for he wanted some peace

and quite, for the stress never ceased

at work, but at least it wasn't like

here! Now that he was finished, there was a hike

in his blood pressure already!

He could hear her crowing anger; in a steady,

rising pitch, that he just couldn't take any more!

He was going to the tavern; the only sound as he left was the slamming door!





0

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.