by Naomi Moos
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You were caught knee-deep in snow And I in my sherman tank of a truck Gave you a look that said, hey, you suck. I drove on in the blizzard, not heeding your call; Perhaps, as you say, I started it all. But how could I expect that you'd bug my plate And use it to track me down from your estate? Accessing archives of a psychiatrist I sorta know, I compared you with others in the electron flow. The Evil Revenge Artist was your true nature -- Perfect Arch-Nemesis, by other nomenclature. I gathered my gang of evil goons round To plot the next scheme for taking you down. Just as my burgeoning plans were unleashed, however, Your evil goons foiled mine -- how clever! At long last, I made up my mind To visit your place (and sneak up from behind . . .) But while in my truck, from behind came a shove; 'Twas your ramming vehicle . . . could this be love? Diverted, then wrecked, into the side of the road, I lay in wait with the thought, "lock and load." When soon you appeared, just as I'd planned, I aimed at your head and then grabbed your hand. Aghast at your plight, you struggled to wrench free, Much to my amusement; I laughed evilly. I stared into your eyes, knowing you could see . . . And was helpless not to ask, "Will you marry me?" Your devilish smile grew wide and you said, "Sans vous, insolent fool, I'm better off dead; But both of us know we can't live that way. Besides, I'd have to see your face every single day!" My foolish grip weakened and away you slipped. I noticed you'd previously emptied my clip. I wouldn't have fired, of course, but still Of revenge on you, I will have my fill. On Valentine's Day, one year later, I plotted to turn your lair into a crater. "I Hate You, I Love You" by the Dead Milkmen Played on the stereo as I worked in the den. Suddenly the doorbell rang and I woed, For this might turn out like the Tang episode. Satisfactorily finding no smoked lox, I swung open the door to find a small box. Totally unmarked, obviously hand-sent, I signalled my dog Spike to sniff the content. Then, having removed ten pounds of ordinance, One should have seen the shape of my countenance. A passing evil robot asked, "What's the matter?" So I sobered my visage and pointed to the platter That lay in the package arrayed with small cakes And a message from you that could not have been faked. "Darling," it read, "with us being arch-nemeses and stuff, There hasn't been much call for that loverly fluff. I know we're in love, deep down in my skull, So here, have some cookies; hope they're not dull." I fed two to a prisoner, and he survived both. Just for today, I'll forget my sworn oath. Revenge is sweet, but cookies are sweeter; Tomorrow I'll rend your brains through a beater. |
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