the virtual chumley

On a sunny, sedated Thursday
The dim-witted, schizo-affected Chumley
Flatly finished his tray of food.
With his one workable hand
He turned up a tumbler of bright, pink juice.
Then he lumbered ataxically down the hall.

Upon coming to a blue door, he looked inside. Then he walked on down the hall.
Back and fourth, 80 miles per day.
He burned stored energy dissolved in the icy, pink juice.
This doppelganger for the actual Chumley
Had a deffective hand.
He hunted on others trays of uneaten food.

Until he had eaten thrice his assigned amount of food.
He was wearing a groove down the freshly mopped hall.
Adjusting his shrunken hand,
He stared blankly into space the second half of that Thursday,
And appeared to be as intelligent as that walrus called Chumley
When he shook empty pitchers for more semi sweet pink juice.

He was rewarded with just the scent of the juice,
So he scanned a table for more old food.
Anthropomorphic Chumley
Was a fixture in the hall.
Open mouthed and spaced out the live long day,
Someone should have given him a hand.

Seeing as how he was really short a hand
With which to feed his greasy face with cold, limp fries and weak juice.
Rocking by a window to end the day
Waiting for the evening's food
Could he be bored from his last tour of the hall?
Theoretical Chumley

Had thick rolls of salty fat just like a Chumley.
Shifting his itty bitty hand,
He prepared for another stroll of the hall
To search for more juice
And eat from another abandoned plate of dead food.
His excitement each day.

The virtual Chumley was in love with food, with his gimpy
hand. He drank much juice. He spent every day ambling about the hall.