Stipper and Jo

Stipper and Jo
Narrative poem, written in high school


STIPPER AND JO
         Stipper and Jo are two chipmunks who live in an oak tree.  Cutesy and morbid. 


"So, Jo," says I, and, "So, Stipper," says he,
As we pulled out our chairs and sat down for our tea.
"I think," I began, as sipped his tea he,
"That we ought to pack up and leave our fair tree:
Cold'll be here soon, and our acorns'll leave,
And we ought to pack up and leave our fair tree."

"Leave!" he cried, as he set down his tea,
"Why, what could instill you to leave, possibly?
Our fair tree is warm, and does make a fine lee;
'Tis sheltered and warm, our fair Acorn Tree!"

"Julius, good Jo," I trod carefully,
(On his toes, in truth, and so spitefully!)
"I'm afraid I must tell you I do disagree:
Our fair tree is strong--to a limited degree,
And t'would not last long, our goodly Oak Tree--"

"Oh, but Stipper, you are wrong," Jo then did decree,
"Oh yes, my good Stipper, and I do so believe,
That t'would do all great wrong, to pack up and leave;
To leave and abandon our great Acorn Tree!"

The words from his mouth, said so passionately,
Had an absolute fervour that stunned even me!
I sat and I thought, yet all I could see,
Was how Jo could stu-stutt-suh--SPEECHLESSFY--me! 
Of all the confounded--But oh, he'd soon see,
NO ONE is better with words than is me!
...

Right, so I set down my small cup of tea
And, "Julius," says I, "why so fiery?
What makes you defend, so furiously,
The hard winters coming to our with'ring Oak Tree?" 

Jo sat there awhile, a grin of idiocy
On his face which he stuffed in his teacup of tea--
I loathed him, I did, but of course, you'd agree
That the vile little beast deserved no Oak Tree. 
Who could leave such a mess as could he--
Rough piles of leaves left too uncouthly for fleas!
And his little reed fife which he'd SKRANK out of key
To the pretty blonde nymph over East some two trees. 

O, pretty blonde nymph over East some two trees,
Why listen to that hideous banshee, not me? 

"Nnmmrurglrrgl," I said 'nto my tea,
For Jo began smiling so innocently:
His face, near angelic with that naivety
Only of foolish numskulls struck amorously
For a silly blonde nymph over East some two trees. 

Oh, I'll get you, good Jo--don't dare believe
That the pretty blonde nymph over East some two trees
Would ever choose filth over my dignity--
Now, if I could get Jo to leave perm'ently, 
Might I win the affection of that pretty blonde fille?

"Hey, Stipper," Jo said, and my thoughts had to screech
to a shatter halt mid my violent glee--
"Yes, Jo?" I did manage, my secrets with me. 
"You know that girl who lives to the East? 
The sweet little girl, she must be lonely. 
I bet no one sings or keeps her comp'ny--
And I've been thinking some time, just how lonely
A sweet little darling like her might just be."

I brooded, I did: a thunder-tossed sea
Of inclement tumult like a bloodthirsty spree,
And I knew all at once that, finally,
This was the last that I'd take willingly! 
I got up, I did, picked him up by knees,
And with winding up whirls, threw him out of MY TREE! 

I saw him bounce, once or twice, and, strangely,
I found myself breathing a sense of great peace--
No one could survive any descent from so steep,
Off a branch of the limb of our goodly Oak Tree--
And when I stepped out a pawlength, just so to see,
I heard a small, "Hi," from the trees to the East. 

I turned and I looked, and who did I see
But the pretty blonde nymph approaching my tree!
"Good day," she sang out with her voice prettily
And, "Good day," I responded without panic or plea,
Though I inwardly dreaded any sight she might see
On the ground by the roots of our bloody Oak Tree. 

"I've been meaning to ask," said the pretty blonde fille,
Tugging the bow in her hair nervously,
"I'm so lonely, myself, all alone in my tree,
I was wondering if I could, perhaps, join you for tea? 
Some afternoon's fine, time's no issue for me."
And my heart and mind lit up joyously. 

Successful revenge can give one tizzy
And I near well fainted in delight and in glee. 
"Er, ah, yes, do, er, come up now--please,"
I said to the damsel most dashingly
(If I say so myself, I'm gentlemanly--
I don't think she noticed my nervousity). 

So she sprang up the branches agilely,
And jittering we stepped arm-in-arm 'nto the tree. 
She gazed around in the humble shanty,
Found delight in a soft paw-sized mouse effigy!

"Oh, lovely place, so warm and homely,"
She said as we entered the kitchen gaily. 
I asked her her preference when it came to tea,
And with delight discovered, was the same as me! 
...Mine. 

I was so dizzy-headed--my dreams took body--
For once in my life, I was truly jolly! 
We sat and we talked and, to my revelry,
I found she had much in common with me! 

We talked about politics of the world past the trees,
Of art and of gardens and of foreign cheese,
Of beauty and business and her expertise
Was bournless as time and as far as the seas. 

I was saddened when she looked at the light on the leaves
And realized how long she had stayed here with me. 
"I must be off now," she said feelingly,
"It is getting late, and I do have to leave." 

I saw her to the door, afraid I'd never see--
But then she turned right around suddenly;
"Oh, yes," she said, and her face shone brightly,
"I forgot to introduce my friend--come see!" 
She skitted out, so I did proceed,
And standing there was Jo, who waved happily. 

My mind tumbled over itself--disbelief!
And all I could say was: "WHY WON'T YOU JUST LEAVE!"
I glared like a madbeast, I embodied Fury,
I jumped and I pouted, with an infantile, "SQUEEEEE!"
All my dignity had no 'hibition to flee,
And I ran and flung myself off the Oak Tree. 

You might think me mad, some daft old turkey,
Being driven insane by a silly blonde fille,
But nobody's ire can be raised such a degree,
Than by the existence of, yes, only he--
him--
Whose little reed fife would SKRANK out of key,
Or who would leave a mess too uncouth for the fleas--
I'll not let the two of them live happily:
Forever I'll haunt the bloody Oak Tree!
I'll stalk in the night, thinking, ironically,
That it had been me who had wanted to leave.