Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1030878-The-Stereo
by Cros
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Comedy · #1030878
An amusing, and slightly scary parody of E.A. Poe's "The Raven."
Once upon a morning bleary, as I awakened none too clearly
After drinking Jose Cuervo more than any man before,
While I staggered, nearly falling, suddenly there came a calling
As of someone loudly brawling, brawling just beyond the door.
"Tis some drunken fools," I slurred, "brawling just beyond the door.
Only this and nothing more.”

None too distinctly I recall, it was early in the fall,
And each single, sober wall did seem to crawl across the floor.
So although my head was pounding, still I listened to the hounding,
While the furniture was bounding to and fro across the floor,
Devil furniture that took delight in bounding o'er the floor.
This it did and nothing more.

So with my senses dipping, diving, vainly I was seeking, striving,
Striving, fighting the effects of my imbibing night before.
So ungainly I was striding, but in truth was more of sliding,
Sliding down my crippled legs on towards the ever rising floor.
Collapsed contortion of my legs, my forehead deep within the floor.
This was odd, and nothing more.

And so where I'd failed at walking, I was stooped to humbly crawling,
Dragging my inert and twisted body out across the floor.
Inch by inch I struggled crawling, rising, tripping, swearing, falling,
Finally dragging myself o’er to that sole and lonesome door.
An effort causing me to sweat profusely from out ev’ry pore,
Uncomfortable, and nothing more.

Presently my limbs grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
"Excuse me," said I, "I was sleeping and your silence I implore.
For you see that I was resting and your brawling or your jesting
Echoed rudely through this chamber, and awoke me with a roar."
No reply was aptly spoken so I opened wide the door.
...A stereo, and nothing more.

So to my bed I was returning, foolishness within me burning,
As the volume now was turning to the muted mark once more.
And so now I laid reclining, one last myst’ry still divining,
"Where did I come by such a thing? I did not own one thus before!"
But the thought was lost amongst my pillow, comforter and snore.
To resurface -- nevermore.
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