04-03-2014, 04:49 AM
Clueless
He had a W.C. Fields persona,
that same snide drawl; medals of honor
paradoxically embellished
his dress uniform.
Colonel Mustard’s war stories failed
to dazzle the widow Peacock. His triumph
in ruffling her tail feathers, pinned a smile
between his jowls and snout. With knife drawn,
he carved a corpulent slice
of mutton, turning his favor
to other delights.
Wandering into the ballroom,
pink knuckles clenching sandwich and scotch,
he bumped into the curvaceous Miss Scarlet.
Her dropped clutch purse coughed up a revolver
unnoticed, cloaked by his pot-roast belly
and her gravy-boat breasts.
Scarlet’s smile seduced
a drive home from an eager Colonel.
A playful shrug dismissed queries
about her escort, who was observed
drinking heavily all evening.
Come morning,
servants found Professor Plum
in the conservatory
under the rosebushes
with Mrs. Peacock,
both dead to the world.
He had a W.C. Fields persona,
that same snide drawl; medals of honor
paradoxically embellished
his dress uniform.
Colonel Mustard’s war stories failed
to dazzle the widow Peacock. His triumph
in ruffling her tail feathers, pinned a smile
between his jowls and snout. With knife drawn,
he carved a corpulent slice
of mutton, turning his favor
to other delights.
Wandering into the ballroom,
pink knuckles clenching sandwich and scotch,
he bumped into the curvaceous Miss Scarlet.
Her dropped clutch purse coughed up a revolver
unnoticed, cloaked by his pot-roast belly
and her gravy-boat breasts.
Scarlet’s smile seduced
a drive home from an eager Colonel.
A playful shrug dismissed queries
about her escort, who was observed
drinking heavily all evening.
Come morning,
servants found Professor Plum
in the conservatory
under the rosebushes
with Mrs. Peacock,
both dead to the world.
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris