Saturday, October 15, 2011

When Swythe Was Drunk

An old short story I did a while back, made into a poem.

Sometimes, I like to think I live in a small town in a small crack
Just big enough to fit me
And get by in life without making a big show of it.
Some people like to live in small cracks
Just big enough to fit themselves
While others live so large
They suffocate at to bottom of their crack
Because a million other people are piled on top of them.
Perhaps all this explaining I am doing is getting painful
            Since all I am doing is talking about human society
            So now I will finish explaining and start my story.
Deep in the bowls of the city of Los Vegas,
Which is the city that I live  
I was walking down the street and a man around my age (22 or so)
Came and randomly stomped on my foot.  
Now like the "good" person I am, I gladly ignored him
And went on walking to my car.  
Unfortunately, this wretched young man followed me
And tapped on my shoulder about five times
Before I finally turned around and slapped him.  
Yes, it doesn't seem quite right that this handsome guy deserved the slap
But he was getting on my nerves big time.
It ends up being, this guy was trying to ask for directions,
Which I had no clue in the slightest he was doing
 And he didn't quite know how to say it in words.  
I began to think he was drunk.  
If he was, I would probably take him back to his home until he recovered
Instead of taking him to the police department
And making my life a whole lot more complicated.  
Perhaps it would be even easier
To just leave him here for another person to deal with,
But this guy wouldn't stop following me.
I agreed to take him back to his house and said that if he didn't shut up
I would put him on the street where he belongs  
Okay, looking back I think that was a little harsh to say  
But he gladly shut up until I returned him to his house.  
After that, he asked if I had "the time"  
And I told him 9:20.
He then said it again.  I grew annoyed.  
Finally, I figured out that he was asking if I could stay
And help him with burning CDs on his computer.  
He told me that he was part of a band
 He told me that his name was Swythe Tenon
Which is a rather odd name I must say
And he said that he would pay me if I burned the CDs for him.  
I accepted.  I didn't see any violence
Or any mischief in his eyes
So I accepted, and I burned as many CDs as I could
While Swythe crashed on the couch.  
I don't know how long it was
But I seemed to have woken up in an odd place
With a great big crick in my neck
And a big pile of CDs lying all around me.  
I looked around and saw that this was Swythe's house
Oh, of course.  
And in the kitchen, Swythe was cooking
And after a long few minutes of realizing who I was
He came out with a plate of food for me.  
I began to feel like I had been the drunk one.  
I gladly ate the food
And told him about myself so that I would feel like and honored guest
Rather than just some idiot who burned CDs until 12:00 last night.  
I told Swythe how I liked to play the electric violin.  
Swythe told me about his band.  He asked
If he could hear me play sometime.  
I accepted his invitation.
Though I had never dreamed of being in a band before
I can somehow imagine myself on stage
Rocking away on my electric violin
Getting galvanized by the crowd around me.  
I had always wanted to live a simple life in a small crack
But I guess it's fine too that I'm in a band.  
In a way, I'm glad that Swythe out of all people
Stomped on my foot when he was drunk.


  1. Haha! I totally remember this poem and looking at it again now, I still like it even now!! Really good, very good. :)

  2. Yay, thanks! I made edits as you may see.