And so
sticking something the cat drug in
up his sleeve and pleasantly finding that it fit like a glove in his stuffed shirt, he left for work. It was indeed snug as a bug and this creature slept like a log. As luck would have it even putting his best foot forward at his job that day would not help him. His co-workers avoided him like the plague and for the life of him he could not understand why. But wanting to let sleeping dogs lie he acted like there was nothing wrong. Not wanting to let the cat out of the bag when he heard about his boss being caught red handed with his hand in the cookie jar he kept his nose to the grindstone and acted as though there was no time like the present for getting things done. These things happen he thought, although his boss was a poor excuse for a working man in this day and age he was not surprised. Greed after all reigns supreme. There is one born every minute, and one with a foot in the grave right now, he told himself.

His senses reeled at the poor excuse for creature comfort his cold shoulder gave to the green eyed monster that his cat drug in on that dark and stormy night so long ago. In a twist of fate, it awoke ravenous and bit the hand that fed it.
It goes without saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. He felt his protection of this creature to be a moving experience and knowing silence is golden he told no one about this one in a million creature that inhabited the small world of up his sleeve, and a raging infection grew in the bite.

Of course it is such a small world some of his best friends noticed. He seemed different, much older all of a sudden and no wiser.
They began to view with alarm the snow job he was giving them about rising on the wrong side of the bed, this same old story, same old song and dance was becoming a red herring.
He would mutter every day about working like a dog, these things happen....

THEN HE DIED.

Moral of the story???

LIFE IS SO CLICHE!

To the best of my knowledge this tough as nails salt of the earth man was being led to death's doorstep by a bump in the night creature that the cat drug in on a dark and stormy night and that gives me the creeps.

But I digress, I am here to set the record straight; to err is human, but to the best of my knowledge he put this monkey on his back himself.
But seriously.....isn't that what we all do?

THE END

(I would have been scared stiff looking that green eyed monster in the face, (Peter?) but remember the road to hell is paved with good intentions and he saw the pain and suffering in the creature's eyes and could not turn it away....
that look was to be his final kiss of death.)

06/02/2007

Author's Note: He he he is this a poem or a true story? Eh who knows? It is the MORAL of the story that matters.

Posted on 06/03/2007
Copyright © 2026 Maria Terezia Ferencz