by Andrea Jones
A poem about grown up Miss Muffet.
An older Miss Muffet,
one day said 'Fuck it,
I've had such a shitty day.
When I sit on my seat,
I want better to eat,
than bloody curds and whey."
Just then a spider,
crept up beside her,
Miss Muffet said, "Oi vey!
Every time I get comfy,
this spider named Humprey,
succeeds in ruining my day!"
She grabbed up her shoe,
and with might she threw,
to crush the little insect.
But she didn't know,
that her eight-legged foe,
had superior intellect.
The shoe it did miss,
Miss Muffet gave a hiss,
and quite a few times she swore.
She clenched her teeth tightly,
"Fucking spider, daily and nightly,
well I vow it shall happen no more!"
She put on her shoe,
out of her chair she flew,
and looked all around the garden.
She huffed and she glared,
"Humprey best be prepared."
and forced her teeth to harden.
After hours of curse spurting,
her feet started hurting,
and her eyes felt dreary and tired.
The night was on Miss Muffet,
so she gathered her tuffet,
walked back to her house and retired.
When the morning light came,
she didn't feel the same,
as she sat on the edge of her bed.
Miss Muffet was sweating,
the sight of her upsetting,
as the pounding went on in her head.
She fell onto her knees,
just able to wheeze,
managing to roll onto her side.
Her muscles were weak,
the floor gave a creak,
as Miss Muffet attempted to slide.
From behind her came a sound,
but she couldn't turn around,
the sound was a frightening tapping.
Just able to open her eyes,
her pupils dilated in surprise,
as she now heard a frightful snapping.
Miss Muffet tried to speak,
but she just gave a squeak,
as her tongue lay swollen and sore.
As the tapping grew nearer,
her breathing grew dearer,
before she saw the culprit once more.
The eight-legged foe,
that she met long ago,
she could tell that he had been fed.
For looking at his sharp teeth,
she saw hanging underneath,
many droplets of chilling blood red.
Humprey looked at his victim,
before beginning his dictum,
as she was barely alive on the floor.
He crawled to look into her eyes,
and on his eight legs did rise,
before whispering to her, "No more."