Fiction

Last edited Wed Feb 4, 2015, 07:02 PM - Edit history (2)

(The person I bought the book from on half.com got the book to me ridiculously fast.)

Said Roget:
"What's the purpose? Tell me why.
What's the reason? Specify!"
The other was silent,
speechless, mum,
close-mouthed, firm-tongued,
tight-lipped and dumb,
word-bound, curt, concise and brief:
He drew a gun, a gat, a rod,
and waved it in Roget's facade,
his face, his mug,
his map, his lug,
his kisser.
"Now wait a minute!" cried Roget.
"Wait a second! Stop! Delay--!"
That's all he said, the other fired,
shot him once; Roget expired,
pegged out, conked out,
kicked the bucket,
croaked and piped. With
Roget's luck it
means he's dead, defunct, passed on,
deceased, demised, lamented, gone.
They wrapped him up in polished oak,
a coffin, casket, wooden cloak,
and on his grave these words bespoke:
"Lie in peace; to God bequest...
R.I.P. and all the rest..."