I confess, I would make a terrible criminal. See that? I already confessed, and I hadn’t even done anything underhanded yet. My mother is the one we kids always said would be the ideal wicked-mastermind, because she’s so incredibly good and kind and nice, nobody would ever suspect her. Of course, there’s the problem of getting anyone so genuinely nice and kind and good to actually Do Bad Deeds, so you can see that in practical terms our family is just not cut out for skillful bad-deed-doing.
So it’s conceivably a somewhat sympathetic chord being struck that makes me kind of like tales of really inept criminality. Yes, it’s also that the stories all end with comeuppance for miscreants, because if you’re really a clod among crooks, you will get caught, and I am after all a great goody two-shoes at heart. But maybe one with a hint of a mean streak, because it’s probably pure Schadenfreude that makes me truly enjoy tales of ineptitude among the nefarious.
Hey, Who’s the Real Bad Guy Here?
One day I was evading the police pursuing me,
And by a mere coincidence, I bumped into a tree
That happened, oddly, by surprise, to tip onto a house
And through its roof, which crumpled down, startling a rabid mouse
That shot across the neighbors’ lawn and bit their Shih Tzu dog,
Upon which, he upended, deathlike, in aphasic fog;
The neighbor lady found him lying stiff-legged on the lawn
And started in with CPR* to save him, thereupon
Shocking the Shih Tzu back to action, sending him a-pounce,
As though he squirted from her arms, to give the mouse a trounce
That sent the rodent racing back to its familiar haunts,
And by the tree, it spotted me, quite startled for the nonce—
The both of us, indeed, taken aback for just that blink,
Until a second later it occurred to me to think
There were some coppers on my tail, and if I didn’t scram
They’d find me gaping at a mouse, and clever as I am,
I reached instead and grabbed the little critter by the tail
And strapped him in my seatbelt, so if any went to jail
It would be one that, anyhow, had terrorized a pet,
Whereas I’m just a burglar, and I ain’t bit no one yet.
[Note for my Canadian friends: not referencing the Canadian Pacific Railway here, although I suppose one could make the argument that running a train over an unconscious being might forcibly restart his heart with a powerful squashing, if it didn’t kill him outright]
Rumors
Mellie’s tidy garden
Upon the gatehouse roof
Is rumored to conceal some things
Of which we have no proof.
It’s pretty for its own sake, yes,
With dainty flowering plants
But the idea it’s secretive
Is really what enchants
Roof gardens are quite magical
All of their own accord,
But we like thinking Mellie’s
Best, for hiding untoward,
Suspicious things not seen at first,
Perceived among the flowers,
But only yet imagine
In our impish idle hours.
Art-Colored Glasses 
Delightful, clapping with glee! Particularly at the Seussian imagery in ‘Who’s the Real Bad Guy Here.’
Is it evil to delight when the evil-doers fall? Then, call me evil. 😀
Dear “Evil”,
I’m so glad you enjoyed the poems, and I’m surprised but pleased that the Glee cast did too and is clapping with you. But then they seem a cheery bunch.
Love,
kathrynimpish
I liked the image of the mouse in the seat belt, peeping it was not me it was not me!! c
Well, you of all people know how animated animals are!!
Still smiling at Rumors. I like the lines ‘roof gardens are magical, all of their own accord’ – there is something special about looking up and seeing an unexpected garden in the sky.
Roof gardens, vertical (wall) gardens, secret gardens–is there any kind that doesn’t offer some sort of magic!
Richard and I once stayed at an old-mansion B&B that had part of its property made into a sunken garden that seemed a little like the original owners had dug a full basement for another house next to the mansion and then reconsidered and walled it in and created a secret garden within it. The garden was a ruin when we were there; they were just beginning restoration of it, but somehow that only added to the delights. The property was used as a movie set a couple of years later for a Stephen King tele-movie (Rose Red) that I should’ve watched just to see how they used the place in the film, since I never saw it or heard whether they used that garden to its greater potential! Maybe I’ll have to look up the film after all. And just keep my husband handy to cover my eyes when the scary parts arrive (one of his designated duties).
Oh, I just loved reading this! Marvelous work. I always get a bit inspiration when I read your work. Thank you for sharing :-]
So glad you’re around to make the sharing worthwhile, Red! It *is* fun to let the mind frolic in low places when the opportunity presents itself, no?
Oh trust me, I might make an even worse criminal! I’d be paranoid of getting caught every second. I really like the ‘Rumors’ poem, and the lines ‘But the idea it’s secretive, Is really what enchants.’ Lovely. x
Is there a reform school somewhere for all of us failed villains?
I’m glad you like my Secret Garden. There’s definitely something compelling about them, especially ones discovered by accident.
What fun! I would have made an excellent criminal. I have no fingerprints. Well…not much. Every time I get fingerprinted for some kind of volunteer work, they need to be redone several times because they just can’t get a print. 😉
What, Geni, did you burn them off on the oven door? Grate them off with your spice grinder?? I seem to have no gallbladder, according to one sonographer, but I can’t think of any criminal advantage for that yet so will have to depend on you to do the deeds for our gang. I’ll just hang around practicing my evil laugh for now, I guess! BWAhahahahaha! (etc) 🙂 Oh: are there cookies handed out at the gang meetings?
A life of crime is not for me, alas. The guilt would kill me, but that mean streak? It runs a mile wide in my world. There is nothing wrong with a bit of a sadistic bent, is there? I have to admit that I enjoy the word “no” in certain situations – of course, that would be ME saying, “No!” And how bad is it, when as a circulation supervisor in the local library, I enjoy, ENJOY, sending the cretins who refuse to return materials to collections? Ha ha haaaaaaa *laughing gleefully at the thought*
I particularly like the line,
“Is rumored to conceal some things
Of which we have no proof.”
It enchants me.
I am so glad I can provide reason for your gleeful laughter. It makes *me* laugh too! It’s awfully contagious. 🙂
I cannot perform the most common of transactions without, in some way, having to re-do or correct something. A life of crime? Ha! That would be one very short life followed by a very long stay in some government supplied, sub-standard housing unit, albeit complete with its own security system.
I don’t doubt, however, that your brief career as a criminal would be loaded with STYLE. Still, I don’t recommend it, because I’m pretty sure the pasta in prison is neither handmade nor served al dente, let alone their prosciutto properly aged. Some things are simply not worth the misery. 😉
So that’s how you spell Shih Tzu, no wonder I’ve been upsetting all the dog owners. Good ones Kathryn, had a laugh 🙂
I’m one of those that thinks the breed generally *deserves* its misspelling. No little yappers for me! But I suspect it’s the owners, not the dogs, that really deserve censure in that case, so maybe they also deserve to be a little insulted, so go get ’em! 😉 Always happy when I can hand out laughs!
Could it be – rooftop marijuana? 🙂
Hahaha! You remind me of when my two grandmothers were out strolling together once and came back speculating about some run-down house they’d passed where they were quite certain someone was “growing pot in his sunporch”–we were all highly amused that those two prim little creatures even knew what pot was, let alone that they’d turned amateur detective on their walk! 😀