I’m Still Pissed About The $8.75 December 21, 2008

T’was the end of my night shift,
and all through the town,
the snow was a’blowing,
no one was around.

My papers were stacked by the desk with care,
in hope my relief soon would be there.
I longed to be home all snug in my bed,
With visions of hot shoes filling my head.

In coat and scarf I waited, head sans a cap;
Anxiously awaiting my mid morning nap.
So I dialed her phone, it made such a clatter,
I wanted to hear just what was the matter.

As soon as she showed I left like a flash,
De-iced my car and sped off in a dash.
The roads, covered in new fallen snow,
made certain the fact I’d have to drive slow.

When, what to my despise , do I hear?
But a request to stop for bagels and smear!
Because I’m a pushover and none to quick…
I decide to the trip, see, I’m no prick!

More tired than ever, to the shop I came,
I hemmed and hawed, then called them by name;
Three onion, two egg, three cinnamon raisin,
Two whole wheat, two plain, this place is amazin!

I’d finished! I’d ordered! Let’s get on the ball!
I’m ready to hit the proverbial wall!
And then the clerk, said, with out batting an eye
“Today you get four extra, free!  Your total is 8.75!”

So out to my car my short-changed ass flew,
To dig up some change, and found quarters, a few
And then, more attention to my bill I took,
That chick charged me extra, sniveling crook!

As I dutifully paid her and turned back around,
My face was contorted into a mean frown,
I drove home in a fury, my own two year old fit,
I was tired and hungry and my fuse had been lit.

My father at home, was resting his leg,
It was his order I brought (he likes the bagel of egg.)
I tried to be nice, when he welcomed me home,
But I would have preferred he just left me alone.

He left me to sleep and went into the kitchen,
And that’s when I started to unleash silent bitchin;
I heard the bag rustle, I heard the milk pour,
I angrily wished the living room had a door.

He stumbled around for what seemed like forever,
Who knew that breakfast was such an endeavor?
Then the room fell silent, I thought he was done doing,
Then to my horror I heard all the chewing!

Dear Readers bear with me, as I tell you my plight,
But come on, is this statement not all sorts of right?
Am I correct in assuming there’s nothing more gross
Than the audible mastication of folks?

As I gritted my teeth, into my pillow I weeped,
And then into my nostrils, the smell, it doth seeped.
The fragrance was that of my young brother’s matter,
He has yet to learn the art of controlling his bladder.

My night it seemed, could not end any worse.
I’m afraid that for me, winter solstice is cursed.
My father has thankfully now retired to bed,
I suppose that is where I too shall soon head.

This poem’s not perfect, but it served me well,
And If you don’t like it, I curse you to hell*
But now I’ll hit publish and dive out of sight,
Happy Solstice to all, and to all a good night!
* not really, it is Christmas after all.