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Wordle #47 - "The Sunday Whirl," March 11, 2012

(wc 432)

“How was the vacation?” you ask. My answer now forever will be, “The best part is that it is our last one. There is no place like home.” 

Now Everyone Knows the Trouble We’ve Seen

We decided long ago,
we would save every dime to live our dream:
Our all-inclusive! (including tax and tips)
vacation to “where no one has gone before.”
No one we know, anyway.

At long last, we emptied our savings,
(all that we had worked
and sacrificed to fill).
We had refused to settle
for anything less than our dream.

We bought our tickets to ride,
“Deluxe Tourist Class.”  The quarters
small, but there was plenty
of room.  We could not
ask for more.  (Couldn’t afford it.)

Two seats for the seventeenth flight
to Mars.  Ready for everything,
certain we could handle anything.
With second-class wine (included in package),
as our libation, we toasted our good fortune.

It should have sounded too good
to be true.  Waiting for liftoff, we read it –
the printed card in the pocket:
“In case of accident, a separate fee,
(not included in package) is charged.”

This could not apply to us! We called for
the attendant.  “What’s this?” we asked.
“We purchased the  all-inclusive package,
(tips and tax included)! What separate fee?”
“It’s only in case of an accident,” she replied.

“You paid for your vacation.  You did not pay
for an accident,” she chirped, and flashed a
(well-practiced) smile.  Confused, and with
mounting concern, we asked if payment
is required in advance, and when it must be paid.

“Everyone must pay ahead, but it’s always returned.
So far, we are accident-free.” said she,
and flashed again her (well-practiced) smile.
What do we get, we wondered, for this
previously undisclosed, extra fee?

Having no choice, we paid the unexpected toll –
all our “for-souvenirs money.”  (We lamented
that we would return empty-handed.)
Our crying was interrupted by the rocket-roar,
We had not been as prepared as we thought.

The g-force was greater than we expected.
There were two accidents that day – the
seventeenth voyage of the commercial
Earth-to-Mars passenger vehicle.  There was
no such thing as “prepared” for us.

We now save our money for
a new vacuum cleaner.  Here.
Home sweet home.  It won’t cost as much
as the (accidentful) journey we cannot prove with
treasured souvenirs. But our carpets will be clean.

********************

Well, for that one – which Poly took in a completely different direction than I had thought (or hoped) – I have retracted her vacation offer.  This “poem” (story) is not morose.  Stupid, but not morose. I’ve had enough. . .
 

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