Never Look into the Eyes of a Snot Monster

 

snot monster

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sketch by Terry Whidborne

 

 

If you gaze into the eyes of a snot monster

behind the glasses and the bourgeois ideal

you will discover he has fled

joined the ranks of the un-dead

zombies’ve  feasted on his brains

ghouls have slurped up his remains

you’re merely staring at a shell

so look no further for who can tell

when a demon without a home

may move in and begin to moan

a head quite so full of snot

would provide an ideal lure

for a monster with an addiction

to evil condensed so pure

 

Copyright October 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Carolina Finds a New Home

The Proprietor of the Pet Shop in Upper Weeping, watched as Little Veronica Waldorf pushed her nose up to the glass, hands pressed on either side of her face, eyes large and imploring as she viewed the display of hanging bats, multi-coloured baby dragons, and a couple of brand new Smug Sphinxes. The Proprietor knew that as much as Veronica loved all creatures, her heart was set on a miniature crocodile. The Proprietor also knew that her mother had said NO! OVER MY DEAD BODY! and I’LL KILL ANYONE WHO GIVES MY DAUGHTER A CROCODILE!

Mrs. Waldorf, the owner of Saturnalia Salads, was a formidable Human of the Gargantuan variety. Little Veronica was only little in comparison.  The Pet Shop Proprietor never, ever went against anything Walnut Waldorf said, so he tried, daily, to ignore that yearning look on little Veronica’s face.

Little Veronica was friends with Velella, a Wolfpack Demon and Marcus, a Diminutive Dwarf, the two apprentices from Maude Philpott’s knitting and wool shop, Click Clacks. The three of them had formed a little gang of minor mischief, their turf being the main street of Upper Weeping and all of St Willaston’s Park.

St. Willaston’s Park was the place they’d decided on as the safest to keep the miniature crocodile when they’d stolen it from the pet shop. Having spent the past three weeks enclosing off a small dam and checking out books from The Library of No Mirth on Crocodile Keeping, What To Feed You Crocodile and All You ever Wanted to Know about Manure, they were ready. The heist would be that night.

Carolina the Crocodile was quite happy to follow the little gang out of The Pet Shop, along the main street {quietly}, and out into St. Willaston’s Park. She very happily allowed herself to be placed inside the enclosure with her very own swimming pool and resting facilities. When she was given a chicken to eat she fell in love with this large human who offered it to her. She promised herself she would never bite that hand, as long as it continued to feed her.

For the next few days The Pet Shop Proprietor avoided Mrs. Waldorf until he finally realised she knew nothing of the crocodile’s release. He also turned a blind eye to Little Veronica’s newfound interest in vermin control and the trio’s daily visits to St. Willaston’s Park. On the whole he felt Carolina was probably happier outside and what Mrs. Waldorf didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him.

 

Copyright September 2014

The Effects of Curiosity

Advent Poems Day Nineteen

 

She had been told

Nearly all her life

That curiosity

Would be her undoing

So far she had

Resisted the lure

Of the Grandfather Clock

At the top of the stairs

That seductive tick

The pendulum swinging

She had stared for many

An hour together

Mesmerised

By the hands moving round

That beguiling dial

 

sunday sketch 78 by terry whidborne

 

Sunday Sketch 78 by Terry Whidborne

 

On that fateful day

The clock did speak

She stepped inside

As requested

The Magic Clock

Turned out to be

An evil demon

Entrapped for greed

And various other

Assorted deeds

Of the general

Evil kind

 

sunday sketch 79 by terry whidborne

Sunday sketch 79 by Terry Whidborne

 

As she lay

Strapped to his bed

She contemplated

Her unquestionable folly

In following a lure

Set by a demon

Seductively disguised

In a Grandfather Clock

Full of Curiosities

 

 

Copyright December 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monstrous Mind

In a fit of self loathing

I chopped off all my hair

Overnight it grew straight back

As my vampire genes kicked in

And rectified

All yesterday’s mistakes

 

This anxious self

Adrift in the blood

Of tomorrow’s depression

Aware of all inadequacies

Before they manifest

As demons fully grown

 

Myself a trembling zombie

Trapped under the expectations

Of pitiless everyday

Remorselessly shuffling

Back and forth, back and forth

As vital bits decay

 

Vampires, demons, zombies

Prowl my monstrous mind

Fighting for supremacy

Over thoughts of every kind

 

Copyright Feb 2013