Sad, narrow mind

I stepped inside my local store,
Where Fred the owner had strange things galore.
“Hello there, sir, what’ll it be?”
“I’m not sure, reveal your stock to me.”

“I’ve several crates of strawberry wigs,
And multi-coloured marble pigs.
Perhaps you’d like a cauliflower ear?”
“Heavens no! How would I hear?”

“How would you hear? Just listen please,
I’ve hearing aids sculpted from cheese.”
“That’s OK, my hearing’s fine.
Do you have some nice red wine?”

“I’m afraid I’ve sold all of my drink,
But do you need a kitchen sink?
I’ve got one here I think you’ll like,
It’s made of plaice and cod and pike”

“I’m sorry, Fred, I’m left confused,
No-one sells such things, I’m quite bemused.”
“You’re right young man, what you say is fair,
But look at me, do you think I care?!”

I looked at the man from his head to his toes,
I noticed he was wearing peculiar clothes.
“What have you got on, you funny old man?”
“My sushi shorts, they’re from Japan!”

“Well they smell rotten, just like your scarf,
Please remove it, or I might barf.”
“What’s wrong with my scarf? Just have a feel,
It’s made from genuine, jellied eel”

I tried to walk away from the stench,
As my eyes saw what looked like a garden bench.
“Dare I ask, what’s that over there?”
“A bench,” said Fred. “Made from old underwear.”

The bench was brown and stained all yellow,
“What’s wrong with you, you disgusting fellow?”
“What do you mean? They’re all the rage,
Just like this stuffing, it’s chocolate and sage!

“If you don’t like that, then look at these;
They’re fluffy gloves designed for knees.
Maybe that’s not quite your thing,
So how about this bacon ring?

“If meaty jewellery is not for you,
I’ve Klingon copies of Winnie the Pooh.
A thousand eggs sit on my shelf,
All were laid by a Christmas elf!”

“You can stop now, Fred, I must get back,
I only came in for a quick, little snack.”
“A snack you say? What do you desire?
I’ve humbugs here that taste like fire.

“Or how about some sugared squid?
It will only cost you 25 quid.
And in the back I’ve a special treat,
Lemon custard, smeared on meat.”

“Shut your mouth, you silly old freak,
The things you’re selling are rather weak!
They’re weird and gross and in fact quite dear,
Just give me a pizza or chips or some beer.”

“Get out!” he yelled. “If you don’t like change,
In here it’s you, not I who’s strange.”
He used a sausage to slap my face,
Before I ran outside with haste.

A dark cloud opened and rain hit my head,
As I started to think about the old owner Fred
It’s true he was odd, but I was unkind.
I just stood there cursing my sad, narrow mind.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

Heart

I knew a girl who had the biggest heart in the world.
She used to fill it with gallons of kindness and love.

Until one day it all became too much and her heart
Exploded.

The gallons of kindness and love came oozing out, drowning her friends and family.

Not a blob landed on me.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

Lust

67 people gathered outside Matalan
(Most were teenagers but there was one old widow)
They were all staring at the gross young man
Who was sexually assaulting the 20 foot photo of a model stuck to the shop window.

He was slapping his penis against her giant face
Whilst resting his scrotum on her chin.
PC Chambers sprayed the guy with a can of strong mace
Before PC Cole twatted him against a litter bin.

They scooped him off the floor and plonked him in the riot van.
“I love her!” the guy screamed, as his eyes began to burn and fizz.
The teens and widow all laughed at the strange little man
As the window cleaner tutted and started scraping off the jizz.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

The seagull

Yesterday lunchtime I was eating a packet of chips on a bench outside work, when a seagull landed on my knee and spat on my face.

Naturally, I was taken aback. As to not cause a scene I took a tissue from my right pocket, scooped the spit from my cheek and popped the tissue back where it was.

The seagull just glared at me. I attempted to coax it away by waving a chip in its face and flinging it for it to follow. I flinged, it didn’t follow. It just stayed still on my knee, glaring.

It spat on my cheek again.

I looked the seagull up and down. It was quite an ugly thing, if I’m honest. It had rough, greasy wings, a crooked, weak beak and dark, piercing eyes. It had one of those metal tags around one of its legs. Like an ex-con wearing an ankle monitor whilst on parole. It wouldn’t surprise me if it had an ASBO too, I mused. I started chuckling at the idea of it wearing a teeny, tiny hoodie, holding a wooden fish and chip fork it had fashioned into a mini shank.

Then it spat on my chest.

Wiping the phlegm off my tie I tried to scare it off by waving my arms and making barking noises like a dog. But the seagull didn’t even budge. It spat at me again, but this time I managed to dodge the gooey bullet!

The seagull continued to stare straight through me. I began to feel uneasy as I could sense it trying to work out my thoughts. I began thinking of an escape plan in Spanish in order to confuse it. Then I realised it’s definitely seen more of the world than me and would’ve probably picked up a few useful Hispanic or Latino phrases over the years, thus rendering my linguistic trickery ultimately useless.

I tried jabbing it with my wooden fish and chip fork.

The seagull’s eyes squinted as I remembered my mini shank idea from earlier and got scared. I put the fork in my left pocket. The seagull spat on me again.

As I began removing the blob from my eye, whilst reminding myself to Google ‘Do seagulls spit?’ later (which, incidentally, I did and it turns out that while seagulls have saliva, they don’t spit in the same way a human, or this thing, would), the beautiful, blonde girl from my office came walking towards me, smiling.

“Hey,” she said, boinging one of the curls on my head before pinching a chip. “Fancy grabbing a tea with me?”

The seagull glared at my eyes. I looked at the girl and nodded.

“Great!” she said. “I’ll meet you over the road in five minutes.” And with that, she left. Not before shooting me a smile so sweet that I vowed to see it again.

My cheeks started to go warm. I scrunched up my chip packet, threw it in the rubbish bin to the right of me and rearranged my tie.

I looked down at the seagull, whose piercing eyes had turned kind of round and moist.

We shared a strange moment of silence.

I went to say something, but the seagull flew off. Shitting on the girl’s head in the process.

© Carl Burkitt 2013