Skip to main content

 

The Eclectic Pen - ... with all Due and Necessary Apologies to Mr. Edgar Allan Poe, Deceased

By: VOSTROMO   + 2 more  
Date Submitted: 10/27/2007
Last Updated: 5/11/2010
Genre: Literature & Fiction » Poetry
Words: 522
Rating:

In honor of All Hallow's Eve, fast approaching, an early version of my Poe parody, of which there is no later version, and which is based on "The Raven", pieces of "The Tell-Tale Heart" and which, admittedly, has absolutely nothing to do with "The Cask of Amontillado". Go figure. Yes, the meter isn't identical and yadda yadda; plus it's far better with the proper italics and accents and correct spacing, which won't reproduce here; but now I'm whining, so: enjoy. Or not. *************************** The Tell-Tale Spud of Amontillado Once upon a luncheon dreary, while I pondered weak and weary Over many a quaint and curious plate of Julia's childish gore, Suddenly there came a squishing, frightful sounding from my dishing: A strange nouvelle cacophony out of the food they bore. - All this, and dessert more! The sky was rainy, gutters drainy, lightning o'er the Plains in Spainy, The son'rous aether told me this was no digestive dread; Trembling, I put down my spoon (though kept my fork to ward off doom); In gastronomic wonderment I heard: "Admit it, Ed!" - Quoth the Spud: "Admit it, Ed!" What was this voice so sweet and starchy, oft too oily, lumpy, parchy, Speaking to me as if from some underground Abyss? What Daemon gave this recipe of foods excited vocally? What message came within these sounds: what the #$@% was this? Not Kerr nor Claiborne heard such utt'rance: they continued with their butt'rance; Sourly they creamed their spuds with force that hunger brings; 'Twas only my potate, so plated, ably communicated Vegetable blasphemy against the scheme of things. "O Great Potate!" I cried in fear. "What news do you serve me here? What knowledge bring you edibly to this, my tortured soul?" But he spoke not to me again, though I spilled my julienne; Silence reigned as busboys swept away my o'erturned bowl. Again I cried: "O Spud from Hell! Tell me quickly, tell me well: Wherefore rise you, souffle-like, to bring me down to size?" But he spoke not to me directly, merely watched me circumspectly, Piercing my so troubled mind with his twenty-seven eyes. I reached for more Amontillado, desperate for its swift bravado, Fearing that my peace of mind would evermore be hashed; "Look!" I shouted to the waiter. "See you not this damned Tater? Mock me not, for I'm a man whose nerves are eas'ly mashed!" With fevered brain I fast remembered one man's body, well dismembered, With a heart that kept its beating, fleeting though his breath; "Is it for this you make me rotten? (I knew I should have had Au Gratin!) Is this your mission, bastard Tate: to show my conscience Death? All right! 'Twas me, who yet would eat thee, crimin'lly, and so discreetly, Peeled and flayed and pounded into pulp that simple man! 'Twas me myself who had him scalloped; then upon my horses galloped Into this Establishment: you see the wretch I yam!" I stood no longer my position, post this starchy Inquisition; My face a mask of russet hues, I dropped and cried: "All Dead! 'Tis all for naught that I have sinned!" Whilst on my plate the Tater grinned. Still, in my blood, hear I the Spud anew: "Admit it, Ed!" - Quoth the Spud: "Admit it, Ed!" Copyright: GJ Havas. All rights reserved. *************************** All comments, except perhaps "You're such a loser", are appreciated.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by VOSTROMO

Member Comments

---

Comments 1 to 18 of 18

Comments 1 to 18 of 18