Fried Cat

June 7, 2008 - Saturday

Black handles, white doors

plastic shelving and drawers

What are you with holding?

something green, something molding?

Nothing edible, I find

hairy carrots all aligned.

But, alas! what is that?

It resembles fried cat.

When were you last washed?

You hold squash that's been squashed.

O, my dear! You poor thing,

your fumes make my nose sting.

I have for you a thought

many a mind has brought-

Does the light really turn off when you shut the door?

So I don't have to ponder anymore

this I've wondered many a day.

Like how to make the mold go away

You're turning green

My mean, green, moldy machine.

The fungi has spread

fuzzy bacteria covers my bed.

O! the humanity! O! the smell! Back you monstrocity!

Straight back to hell!







With thanks to mrs. melton for making me write it, and thanks to Tristan and my mom for helping me with rhyming words. And thanks to my own and cynthias fridges, for they both are quite disturbing. Please don't take this poem too seriously, I only like it 'cause it's funny.

1:27 PM