✿Dai₷y✿
Bluelighter
The Crazy Stranger At Bottom Feeding Shithole - A Narrative Poem
by pluggle
(aka President Buisness says read the instructions and stop messing with my STUFF)
One day at a pharmacy shop,
I met a man selling flaps,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some bats.
"Got any bats?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No bats here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely needles,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some treadles."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally blunt,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call upfront,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit crazy.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty cicalese.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the pharmacy shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."
"Cats, bats, you shall find.
Needles, treadles, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to bottom feeding shithole Market.
So to bottom feeding shithole Market I decided to go,
In search of the bats I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling attention,
Meatballs in many shades.
There were even stalls selling condescension
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather crazy
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all cicalese.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some bats!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some needles and cats.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the bats she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
by pluggle
(aka President Buisness says read the instructions and stop messing with my STUFF)
One day at a pharmacy shop,
I met a man selling flaps,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some bats.
"Got any bats?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No bats here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely needles,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some treadles."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally blunt,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call upfront,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit crazy.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty cicalese.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the pharmacy shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."
"Cats, bats, you shall find.
Needles, treadles, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to bottom feeding shithole Market.
So to bottom feeding shithole Market I decided to go,
In search of the bats I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling attention,
Meatballs in many shades.
There were even stalls selling condescension
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather crazy
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all cicalese.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some bats!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some needles and cats.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the bats she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
