With words like this, what did you expect?
The Blind Date
Oh doomed affair! I wax forlorn
I had so wished he’d be my heart’s desire!
But hatred bloomed before love could be born,
And I stuck a four-tined fork into his hand.
I would have deemed his ugly face acceptable
But he failed to laugh at my (slightly cruel) joke.
Even a tiny smile was not the least perceptible
When I asked “Were you born that way, or have you had a stroke?”
He seemed to find my manner mean, uncouth
And not a way to welcome in a stranger.
I was deeply hurt by his rebuff, to tell the truth,
And too late, he saw the signs of mortal danger.
(A man who faced down grizzlies – a park ranger!)
With little thought I grabbed my fork and steak knife
He backed away too slow, fear in his eyes.
Too late he tried to save his pitiful life
If only he had chuckled! I was going to apologize!
His body hewn in two, upon the sand he lies
(My manic anger’s fuse was lit too soon!)
The clash between us ends as swarms of flies,
End our beach picnic on a lovely afternoon.
Oh well, now I must carry him, and drive
This guy, who had no sense of humor,
To some doctor who’ll declare he’s not alive
And is dumb enough to think he had a tumor.
(And clumsily had tried himself to surgically excise!)
Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! That blind date had truly had enough. . .