There Once Was a Man... (CST Act II)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
In the same vein of Chicks, Sticks, and Tricks, once again I am called on to help a person in need. This time, the one needing my help is a man living a mundane life. And no, he doesn't need "that" kind of help.

Submitted: October 21, 2009

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Submitted: October 21, 2009

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Upon a time there once was a man,
whose life had been dreadfully bland.
Too young to be old, naught more than a teen,
His time on this earth had been terribly clean.
-
Naught a drop to drink nor a blunt to toke,
Naught a risk to gamble nor a lass to poke.
Devout to his duties like a man of the cloth,
His life seemed to move with the vigor of a sloth.
-
So one day I came to see,
This man begging, “Mike, help me!”
“The life I live has been disgustingly tame,
My pure nature is surely to blame.”
-
“I've heard your social life has been very hearty,
I'd be in your debt if you threw me a party.”
Never one to avoid a challenge, I took up the task
A party for free? He didn't even have to ask.
-
The night of the party, I was lit like a comet,
But when I entered his house, I wanted to vomit.
Balloons and streamers, the scene was quite vile,
A flamboyant extravaganza built for a child.
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“Whats wrong?” he asked, while handing me a hat,
I motioned to strike him, but instead only spat,
“The style of your party leaves me with great disdain,
Let me handle the rest or you will surely be slain.”
-
Getting to work while he sat on the side,
I dashed away his favors and apparently his pride.
The party had started, the pieces were set,
The liquors were flowing, the ladies were wet.
-
The house was rocking like it was possessed,
Even when the officers came to arrest.
A few fires started, a few windows shattered,
A few virgins deflowered, a few fellas battered.
-
I woke up on a couch, a smile on my face,
I slowly got up and looked around the place.
“That was a great bash, we knocked 'em all dead”
“What?!” he stammered, “Are you soft in the head?!”
-
“My kitchen is ravaged, my toilets are spoiled,
my den is in ruins, and my bedroom is soiled.
There's beer on the floor, and smoke marks on the ceiling,
And the stenches of vomit and sex have me reeling.”
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“Calm down,” I said, while lighting a cigar
“The night was worth the mess, so no need for war.”
“No need for war?!” he screamed, “No need to fret?!”
“I spent my whole night trapped in a closet!”
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Yes it was true, I had locked the teen out
It was part of the lesson, there was no other route.
“The teachings I give you, what you should have learned that night,
Was that the capacity for fun should be of your own might.”
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“Expecting others to serve you some fun,
surely is not the way it was meant to be done.
You must take initiative to live your own life,
Fill it with happiness, and not just with strife.”
-
Mouth gaped open, he had nothing to say,
And to the exit I had made my way,
But before heading out into the open streets,
I called back “You should probably burn your sheets.”


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