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.