ALL HALLOW EVE HALL

ALL HALLOW EVE HALL
by Mary Moffett

Cookie Crenshaw, an idgit,
Certainly one to fidget,
Opens her snail mail.
She's invited to get ready
For a costume ball at
All Hallow Eve Hall.

So moving all the things
Meticulously about on her table,
Cookie, a sane witted idgit
Whose foible is to fidget,
Grabs her car keys. She's quite able,
Hellbent on a nearby thrift shop
Where she's always glad to stop.

The Ball's prize is $100 bucks,
Nervously, Cookie thinks "Awe shucks."
Now determined to win
She's definitely in!

First she plans to pretend
To be a society dame
But the formal wear
Looks kinda lame.

Next she teeters on
Being a Ballerina
Alas her dirriere
Isn't tutu worthy
Yet the need to participate
And not be too late.

The Ball's tonight
Her hair's on end
Such a fidgety fright.
The costume must be just right
All Hallow Eve Hall's
Doors open at midnight.

She takes up a brown fur coat.
Puts her arms in backwards.
Alas, no hope there
The coat won't close
No dressing up like a bear.

Suddenly in aisle three
Can it be?
An old gypsy
Pedaling an exercise bike
For the love of Mike!

"I need your crystal ball
To take to All Hallow Eve Hall?"
Cookie says rapidly
"Can I borrow your identity?"
The gypsy, rather lean,
Goes green about to fall.

Stepping back to access the situtation
Eying Cookie's plump bulk
Without a smidgen of hesitation
The aging gypsy nods her head.
Buys the bike with the shop door ajar
Then places it into Cookie's car.

So lately at Cook's table
The gypsy proves capable
To scurry a mouse,
To clean the house,
Eating a lot better
Cleaning out the freezer.
The ancient one drives Cookie's car
Going very very, very far --
Day after day -- much later.

Cookie wins the top prize
As a well known idgit
Whose theme is to constantly fidget
With turban and scarves.
Bracelets and bangles jar
The judges nerves.
Cookie is so wide hipped,
She's albeit skirts of curves.
Gold rings in her ears
Brings the crowd to tears.

The gypsy makes do
Cutting Cookie's size forty
Slacks in two.
And what about Cookie?
Well here it gets rather spooky.
She never came home.

Now, Cookie's one to sulk
Telling fortunes on the
Jersey Boardwalk.

But don't worry
Her new game's money
Which flows like honey.
Cook's an uncanny sense, you know
Now she's raking it in
At Mr. Trump's Casino.

Moral of the story?
Think twice before
You conjure
A new identity in a hurry.
And if you do,
Watch out for the Catch-22
For as victim one may fall
Prey to the audacity down
At that popular, peculiar Ball
Held every year
At All Hallow Eve Hall.

ALL HALLOW EVE HALL
written by Mary Moffett


THANKS TO COUNTRY MOM FOR THIS FIRST PLACE WIN ---
CM --- HEY YOU ARE THE BEST

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