Sunday, September 17, 2006

No Discount

There was this monkey, and I know how it sounds,
Monkey poems are as bad as fat monkeys are round.
Nonetheless, allow me to proceed to tell this tale
Of a monkey without a tail.

There once was this monkey, and as I’ve said,
Without a tail was he made.
Old, with grey tufts on his head, he did manicures
So well, that he was named, the One With Many Cures.

Soak your cuticles, did he, in fermented carrot juice,
And brush them with hair of moose
Sprinkle your fingertips with snapper snips,
Drip them from dapper knits
Of silkworm threads, and many methods unsaid,
Which made this monkey without a tail
Run enterprise with winds always in his sails.

In came in a trumpeter, and the bell above the door tinkled,
And the monkey knew new bills would soon sprinkle
Into his little account in the Caymans, as
Even monkeys know how to avoid the IRS.
The monkey sipped his coffee, too much sugar, no creamer.
"No discount!" he announced brusquely, and with a smirk even meaner.

The trumpeter did not flinch, and nodded without a twitch.
And two hours later she forked out a wad of currency,
Far more than necessary,
And said, "Double, One With Many Cures,
Yours, for the, ahem, trouble."
She winked, and without further ado, bathed in hurry
Away did she scurry.

In came a clarinetist, the sound of feet across the welcome mat.
And the monkey serenely sat,
And sipped his coffee, too much sugar, no creamer.
"No discount!" he announced brusquely, and with a smirk even meaner.

The clarinetist smiled a knowing smile, with a brief nod did he wave.
And two hours later, slid over a pile of notes
Far more than anyone needed to gloat.
And said, "Triple, One With Many Cures,
Yours, for keeping it nice and simple."
Winked, and out the door, without further ado,
The reeded one flew.

In came a conductor, in he stomped, with a scowl of an owl,
Well, perhaps one that’s been dead and stuffed and nailed to a wall.
"My musicians say this is the place to go."
Said he with a look that added, “But, hmm, I don’t know.”
"I come with their recommendation!" did he announce,
Plopped his ample rear into a seat, pushed out his fingers
And there they lingered,
"And so I expect a discount!"

The monkey without a tail, he did not blink,
But fingered the gains of a day: double, triple, and well, a wink.
When you value all that you’re due, you put a price on that too.

He sniffed, he snoffed, and with a little clearing cough
"A discount, of course," said he. "A discount of –"

He reached out for the baton-wielder’s fingers, and without further ado,
Bit, snapped, and spat them out with the skill of the master’s best,

"A discount of half off, no less!"

As the conductor screamed, the tailless one sipped his coffee,
Too much sugar, and no creamer, down his throat it did sink.
And counted again the gains of the day: double, triple, and well, a wink.
Revenge is sweet, thought he, and no less,
When you deal… with monkey business.

This poem was written in the style of Roald Dahl's adult-focused short stories. The characters, human and monkey, are fictional and any resemblance to those in real life is entirely coincidental.
This work and all in this blog, is protected by a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.

4 comments:

Amanda said...

An interesting quote for you

"A musicologist is a man who can read music but can't hear it."
Sir Thomas Beecham

stev said...

*laughs*

interestingly intriguing monkeying around poem tail... was that a tale poem... hmm

meek said...

*chuckles*

brilliant!

AF said...

Thanks! :)