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Thursday, January 31, 2013


Me and Vicki  (A monologue)

We were two of those kids that were
what our folks called: ‘tom boys’.

We climbed a lot of trees, and
jumped off a lot of roofs and stole
a few more hens eggs
than we'd like to admit...
We still remember the incredible
ecstatic thrill
(and awesome guilt)
of smashing all them hens eggs
down the side of Isaiah Crippens
brand new tin shed.

Man, those eggs, they'd splat everywhere-
and then they'd ooze
down the side of the shed
all yellow and mucus-like, with chips
and specks- all dripping, gooey, sticky and wet
And wow: how
                 absolutely "fossilized"
                 those eggs became when they dried!

It was just
so coolly disgusting!

And we'd belly laugh loudly,
rolling around on the ground, throwin'
and smashin' them eggs again and again.
But what made it totally "the best" was:
they were Isaiah Crippens's eggs!
(Vickie would raid the coop
while I coolly kept watch...oooo, tsk,tsk,tsk.)

So, we kept this up for a week or two-
always drawn to that dastardly frolic
until one day, in the middle of our reverie,
Mr. Isaiah Crippens himself, made a
surprise appearance on the scene!

He was like a red hot poker
as he came charging our way
and we lit the hell outta there
barely escaping, by the seat of our pants,
scrambling ‘neath the rickety ‘ole fence.

He waved his arms and ranted and yelled,
Swearin’ he was calling the police
to have us put in jail!

Geeze...we ran faster than jack rabbits,
until we fell, scared, exhausted and spent
into the hay loft of Vicki's barn.

We hid out for hours... 'til way past dark...
then parted ways
(with our "stories" straight)
and crept quietly home.

We got through the night
and never did become ‘captives’
of the police.
(Darn good we made our selves scarce.)

Next day, we decided that: after all,
what we were up to, was really wrong.
It was stealin' and wastin’
perfectly good eggs.

‘N besides there were kids in the world
who had nothin' to eat!

So, we humbly apologized
to Mr. Isaiah Crippens
and mercifully paid for the loss
of them eggs
by cleaning Mr. Isaiah Crippens hen house

for two whole months!

We was really sorry for what we done
and went to church
and did a whole lot of prayin'

Well, I guess
we've been forgiven...
it's been all these years

and we ain't NEVER
stole nobody's eggs
er nothin'

Martha Meshberg
Copyright ©2002

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