I am an aspiring poet who wishes to conquer all forms, from epic to sonnets to free form and beyond. This is a piece I created when I was at the tender age of 12, and was a crude attempt to reconcile the sacred and the profane. It does have poetic merit, however, and although I was kicked out of Middle School for a couple of weeks I think it was the begining of my Byronic tendencies. So, without further ado:
THE LEGEND OF TODD VERNON AND THE ILL FATED POSSUM
Since his origins in the dawn of time,
The creation of space, of Earth and mankind,
Who was the flower of his noble action,
And the utmost source of divine satisfaction,
That is not to exclude, if I may say the least,
The reptiles, birds, fishes and beasts,
Who given unto nature go about their own way,
Leaving God to concern himself only with man’s faith.
And mankind he loved as he would his own son,
Despite to him man’s disappointments done,
That in the 6000 years he hath walked the Earth,
Did not blossom as his creator would prefer.
But he yet carries on in everlasting patience,
Of his beloved creation coming to its senses,
And renounce his pleasurable, lecherous ways,
To walk the true path, righteous and straight.
This secret I divulge you, if I do tell it,
That our divine father’s patience has much taxed his wit.
In addition to his age, which is of infinite while,
He has become, politely said, senile.
From pouring all of his attention in to his delinquent creation,
Who for the blood of his son, can’t forgo masturbation,
Or making prank calls,
Or writing obscene things in public restroom stalls.
There was once a time when such things wouldn’t slide,
If one angered God he was sure to die,
With assurance, that in exchange for his sin,
He’d be destroyed, perhaps with the city he lived in.
But God sorrowfully lives on hoping for the day,
That mankind could just grow up and behave.
Yet due to his patience and lingering wait,
Our once fearsome God has become lax in his ways.
With his attention mired in such vain diversion,
Other realms of his kingdom slipped into perversion.
Namely the beasts, who under his nose,
Crept into stations they were not supposed to go,
Like mascots of high schools, metropolitan zoos,
And pampered surroundings they’d seemingly choose.
The trend on the rise was to abandon the wilderness,
Knowing not that God would rage at this vileness.
“Did I not give them a planet on which to live?
Are they so complacent as to seek what man has to give?
Have they utterly abandoned their natural state,
Because they’re too dumb to know they’ll end up on a plate?
Is it better to live under him than me,
Without the freedom in nature they’d naturally see?
Then blast them all! I count them for fools!
If they seek man’s favor they can suffer his rule!”
God didn’t notice in this angered state,
That a small minority had made him irate.
For most beasts still swam in the seas,
Flew through the air and swung through the trees.
But alas, none of them he was able to see,
For all of his focus on towns, suburbs and cities.
And through these parts his thorough search did bring,
His selection of the human-animal-tyrant king!
“They’ll have eternal sorrow for renouncing me!
I’ll make sure they’re ruled by a bloodthirsty fiend!
Who will smite and defile whichever beast he wish,
And rule over them with an iron fist!
In Biblical times I punished such Kings for their sin,
Yet for my ire of beasts I’ll make an exception for him.
And I know just where to find a man who’d get such thrills,
In Darkridge County, among West Virginia’s hills!
Right then in that place, on rural route 2,
A ’91 Dodge Shadow was faithfully en route,
To a keg party held up a dark gravel way,
Held by high-schoolers for their graduation day.
None in this car were invitees,
The one that concerns us was in the back seat,
Already drunk, and looking forward to fun,
The venerable, legendary, Todd Vernon!
A 40 he drank, letting thunderous burps,
This Friday evening after a hard day of work.
For he’d risen at dawn to lay cinder blocks in the rain,
And though it let up at noon, was now threatening again.
He cared not, for he worked and played hard,
And for that fact his body bore numerous scars.
From burns and broken bottles, of drunk self-infliction,
But to mere outer injuries there was no restriction.
For several times in the past he drank rubbing alcohol,
And bleach and bullet casings of caliber small,
Which disappeared forever into his stomach of steel,
Sometimes he’s make a piece of plastic his meal,
And lived through it all, the hardest man to the last,
To be reputed as a drunk redneck psychopath.
For good luck or bad, he hadn’t yet hurt another,
Which made him no less dangerous altogether.
His two friends in the front saw through these faults,
And found them quite funny, each one and all.
Though they wouldn’t have him at a party of their own,
Because knowledge of his coming led to disgusted groans,
For fear of the terrible things wont to befall:
The property damage, fights and chaos overall.
But they cared not to make these jock ****s deal with him,
Fired up on beer and eager for mayhem.
God looked upon him with a fascinated eye,
Even he wondered how this man hadn’t died.
It must have been strength of a superhuman kind,
Unleashed on the world with this depraved mind.
Normally he’d be sent to hell with the rest,
But in these dire times God devised a test:
A measure of merit for a place in history’s annals,
For Todd Vernon to become the King of All Animals!
As fortune would have it, or God’s foreknowledge far,
A possum plodded through the woods, destined for this car.
For its natural stupidity gave it an unnatural thrill,
To see how close it could come to nearly being killed.
And thereto it sprinted in front of the Shadow,
Which on a collision course was destined to go,
Right over this possum to end its existence.
But as luck would have it, survival came by inches.
The drunk driver screeched the car to a stop,
Near certain the possum he’d gone overtop.
And got out to examine the splotch on the road,
It was certainly dead, or so he supposed.
Yet to his astonishment when he’d gone to inquire,
The possum had run into the side of the tire.
An amazing feat in a chanced split second of time,
And greatest of all, the possum was still alive.
“Come check this out!” he said, sipping his beer,
The coupe door swung open and there was great cheer,
As the passenger stood over the possum in its dazement,
Uttering “****!” and “Shit!” in utter amazement.
By now Todd was wasted, and seething with anger,
There was a party to crash, and he wished not to linger,
Until he heard that an animal was involved,
And leapt out of the car with steadfast resolve.
“This test he must pass” said God with much gust,
“If to him any power I mean to entrust,
With this chance before him, he must prove to go,
Beyond the cruel excesses of Caligula and Nero,
In putting this possum in its rightful place,
With its beady eyes and its unsightly face.
An example to others it will hopefully make,
When this worthless life Todd brutally takes!”
Todd eyed the possum, and it stared helplessly back,
“POSSSSUUUUUUUUMMMM!” He screamed, and reached down with a snap.
It gave little struggle, and had little hope,
With no second thought Todd sunk his teeth into its throat.
For a moment it squirmed, and then it fell limp.
Todd held it to the sky and licked the blood from his lips.
He knew nothing of God, but obeyed the beer demon,
That lived burning within him, riotous and screaming.
His friends burst out laughing, and how could they fail?
Then he eagerly grabbed the corpse by the tail.
“Possum drum!” he screamed, and swung it so hard,
With a resounding thud upon the hood of the car.
The driver stood back and dared not to interfere,
For he knew better when Todd was inspired by beer,
And kept a safe distance while his psychotic friend
Slammed the corpse on the hood again and again.
After 10 minutes of this violent display,
The possum’s head bloodied, smashed and frayed.
Thus the laughter had ceased and the dent fast remained,
And the driver told Todd they must get on their way.
He asked him to lay it back down on the road,
And get back into the car so they could go.
Todd stopped the slamming, but was not finished by far,
He cradled the possum in his arms and got back in the car.
‘Twas better not to argue and let him do his will,
For trying to reason with Todd could likely get you killed.
So they went back on their way and hoped for the best,
That Todd would drink in the back and not make a big mess.
For most of the blood was just on his shirt,
From holding it tenderly after such hard work.
This rodent he slew was now meek as a child,
So he pounded his beer and talked to it a while.
God looked upon this and stood much impressed,
“A compassionate leader once the wrongs are addressed!
With flying colors he has passed this part of the test!
But what of that passion that overcomes all the rest?
Will Todd’s lust for females ever stand in the way,
Of his duty to put animals back in their place?
You have done well Todd, but there is still more,
I’ll make sure this party has temptation in store!”
As the car swerved down the long winding road,
Towards the kegger where they were destined to go,
Todd downed a six pack and composed a song,
That he sang to the possum as the traveled along.
He gave it some beer and kissed its smashed face,
Promising he’d never again do it disgrace.
In that loving moment he declared it his son,
And tried to pass it up front to show how proud he was.
This song he sang you may find difficult to face
For it was sung to the tune of Amazing Grace
“Oooohhhh sweeeet possuuuummm, you now are dead,
Once graaaaay buuut nooow you’re reeeeeed!
I shaaaare your blooood, my deeeear young son,
To beeee foreeeeeever loooooved!”
They timidly listened and put up with the noise,
That poured incoherently from Todd’s drunken voice.
Anon in the distance, a mere mile away,
The graduation kegger was well underway.
A fire burned high and rap music thumped,
As the jocks strolled around with red Dixie cups.
With blonde plastic girlfriends at each of their sides,
Bragging of how someday they’d trick out their rides.
‘Till off in the distance they heard a low rumble,
Of an incoming car, they expected no trouble.
“Who’s that?” thought they, but no one knew,
For each thought another had invited this crew.
Until they got out, and then it was too late,
With terror they looked at Todd’s blood-spattered face.
All knew that none could have invited him,
For it was well known that his drinking always got gruesome,
Especially now, for as he walked to the keg,
He held the possum by the tail and it bounced against his leg.
Some puked at this sight, and many girls screamed,
Yet no soul was brave enough to ask Todd to leave.
For once one had tried this, and had himself to defend,
From Todd’s seething rage and Jim Beam’s broken end.
Therefore they saw best to avoid this crazed man,
But he approached each and all with possum in hand.
“Check out my Possum!” he said, and gave it a kiss.
They recoiled in horror, getting more and more pissed.
At that hour the clouds darkened and swarmed,
As they readied themselves for a late May thunderstorm,
Which Todd paid no heed to, without looking up.
As he conversed with the Possum and drank from his cup.
A little rain did not bother this blocklayer at all,
And carried on as usual when it started to fall.
Unlike all else who ran fast inside,
Locking Todd and the possum out for the night.
But one stayed out with him, she was known from afar,
As Shasta McNasty, who invited Todd to her car.
A true prolific slut she was, never to be beat,
That very evening she had 2 men at once in her back seat.
Not to mention the quarterback an hour before,
She was truly Darkridge’s dirtiest whore.
And Todd’s possum blood bothered her not at all,
If he’d just put it down she’d let him into the car.
“Let’s see how he fares against this temptress foul” quod God,
“To stay the course he’s kept until now,
Was but a pittance for such a warped mind,
To commit debaucheries of such a disgusting kind.
But that was no true measure of dedication,
For I know well of Todd’s masturbation.
He’d be out kissing roses and ringing bells for coins,
For a mere shot at a chance of purging his loins.”
Something else concerned Todd now, a fact very dire,
That the down-pouring rain was quenching the fire!
So he gathered the garbage, the sticks and lawnchairs,
And piled them on ‘till the fire did flare.
For good measure he threw on a child’s big wheel,
The melted plastic dripped and smoked a great deal.
He watched this inferno with great satisfaction,
And from Shasta’s advances was given distraction.
She made one last appeal to Todd’s carnal desires,
And offered to have him right there by the fire.
“I’ll do it” he said, “But one thing I want done,
I want to watch you have sex with my son!”
“Todd!” she exclaimed, “How old could he be?”
“I know for a fact that you’re only 23.”
“He’s right here with me!” and lifted the possum up to view,
And pressed it betwixt her supple breasts two.
Shasta may have been the nastiest girl of all,
Which does not mean that she can’t be horrified and appalled.
She emitted a scream louder than ever before,
And ran to her car, and locked all the doors.
This temptress knew well that drunk driving wasn’t good,
But needed to escape as fast as she could.
She started the engine and spun out some mud,
And was well down the road when Todd heard a thud.
He stood there enraged of this insult done,
And the pain of rejection wrought on his son.
Glad that she wrecked, he ran towards her in glee,
A quarter mile down the road to secure an apology.
His son wouldn’t suffer for that cruel bitch,
He’d break out her window so they could make up and kiss.
Yet he ran on and on with no trace of a car,
And concluded that Shasta had gotten too far.
As Todd trudged back, God lifted the clouds,
And stopped the rain, for he was so very proud.
That he slighted temptation, to passionately resist,
Things that normal impulses press fourth and insist.
“I’ll moonlight his path, on which he shall find,
An outlet for his lust to sooth his aching mind,
Which Shasta McNasty has unknowingly bestowed,
By driving 40mph on an unpaved gravel road.”
Without knowing the joy that awaited him ahead,
Todd’s mind was ravaged by despair and by dread,
As he had second thoughts of the chance he had thrown,
To put down the possum and give Shasta his load.
For all day his lust had been creeping up slow,
And he nearly relieved it right there on the road.
Along with this passion there welled up a rage,
Towards his ungrateful son who prevented his getting laid.
He held it to his face and voiced his craze:
“I take back all the nice things I’ve ever had to say!
Do you even appreciate all of the things that I’ve done?
That I made you look pretty and took you in as my son?
And even put you first when it came to getting ****ed!
Damn you possum, you’re shit out of luck!”
When that had been said, he cast it down like a turd,
And to the warmth of his fire he sought to return.
Perchance as he walked, by God’s destiny set,
He came upon the spot where Shasta had wrecked.
Although there was no car, he was taken with cheer,
For the sound he’d heard was Shasta hitting a deer!
It lay dead in a ditch, in romantic moonlight,
Todd may have renounced his son, but now had a bride!
Affectionately he drug the corpse up out of the mud,
And lay her gently on the road, stained with deer blood.
He gently caressed her muddy flesh torn,
To his delight as he mounted her, the deer was still warm.
He grabbed ‘hold of her ears as he thrust in and out,
This passionate motion made her entrails jiggle about,
As he lustfully expressed this sacred bond,
That need only be an orifice to a person like Todd.
He carried on in this manner for a good two hours,
To deflower this maiden with his alcohol power!
At his climax Todd let out a loud savage scream,
For he was now Animal King, and this deer was his queen.
God looked on in happiness and wiped a tear from his eye.
“By this time tomorrow many will have died,
When I officially crown him in his exalted position,
To restore order to beasts against little opposition.
I’ll have him stop with this coition, for he needs to eat,
And prepare himself a great celebratory feast!”
With that he withdrew and saw Shasta’s hubcap,
And knew immediately what to do for this late night snack.
He picked up this dish and looked for the spurned son,
For he knew where to find a delicacy to feast upon.
God shone a moonbeam down through the trees,
Illuminating the possum for Todd’s eyes to see,
With the possum in one hand, and his dish in the other,
He returned triumphantly to his foul smelling fire.
He put a stick through the spoke and secured it close,
To prepare the frying pan for the possum to roast.
With his teeth he took a beer can and bit out a strip,
Of sharp aluminum to remove the possum’s skin.
Which he placed on his head as a glorious crown,
The entrails encircled his neck around,
As a necklace to show the whole world his deed.
Without further adieu, it was now time to eat.
Into the pan the possum went to barbeque.
With black toxic smoke rich flavor imbued,
A dish fit for a king, with the bones and the tail,
But little did he know he was destined to fail.
For he liked his meat rare and squeezed out the blood,
Into a beer can he’d set down in the mud.
And held the half-cooked possum in the air as he screamed,
A blackout was well upon him when he sat down to eat.
He then took the can with great brevity,
To preserve this great deed in everlasting posterity.
And thereto he climbed up onto the porch,
To depict his conquest on the white front door,
With blood from the can in what seemed a strange mix,
Of notebook scribbling, graffiti and hieroglyphics,
Which appeared to God as pagan symbols of blasphemy,
So he stripped Todd of his kingship, as well as his memory.
And thus he woke up the next morning in the mud,
Unaware of what happened and unsure of the blood.
With a terrible feeling in his stomach, intensely so,
For he had even eaten the possum’s bones.
His friends had long abandoned him that previous night,
And had to ask these others to give him a ride,
Who answered “No!”, “**** You!” and “Go to Hell!”,
With no tolerance for his repulsive deeds and putrid smell.
What would be said of these horrible acts?
Which so many witnessed, would they repeat the facts?
How many versions of what he had done,
Be told unto others, grander each one?
How long would Todd’s name live on in infamy?
Forsaken by God, and his friends, and his sanity?
There was much to answer for he could never understand,
As he lives on forever to hear his own legend.
But what became of the possum on that fateful night?
What would God now do to set things right?
For in the final seconds of the possum’s life,
It rose from Todd’s hands into a white light,
And somehow got lost as it ran through the sky,
For it was so stupid as to need an angel for a guide,
To scamper towards Heaven’s golden gates,
For 2 days in a queue line to patiently wait.
By then God had calmed and saw his own error,
For relying on Todd brought out man’s worst terror.
Which with horror exceeded humanity’s fall,
And brought to the beasts no order at all.
God realized that he needed to take a break,
And to a certain possum had an apology to make.
He decided then to let animal’s misdeeds slide,
For this possum died brutally for the sins of beastkind.
It is rewarded eternally for its last gruesome day,
To run back and fourth across Heaven’s superhighway.
In addition to indulging this ultimate thrill,
God gave it free reign over Heaven’s landfill,
To rummage through garbage in infinite glee,
And scamper to his harem for possum orgies,
In a gold-gilded dumpster that stands to its name,
Embellishing this martyr in everlasting fame!
the poems of young werther -
10-22-06
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