Thursday, October 15, 2020

The Kewpee


Once upon a crazy year, while I fretted and cried into my beer, 

Over many a bleak and troubling story in the news-

As I trembled, nearly crapping, over politicians scrapping, 

I heard the crinkling of wrapping, wrapping like fast food joints use. 

“‘I am hearing things,” I muttered, ”Because of my anxiety and booze.”

I laid down to try to snooze. 


I was as blue as Papa Smurf or Grover, it was early in the cool October;

The year’s plans collapsed like Clarence Oveur after a fish dinner he did choose.

I tried in vain to relive the past; when chain breaking was a blast, 

My silly road trips unsurpassed, until the world turned into number twos,  

In the second year of my life with two zeroes and two twos, 

More off-putting than Ted Cruz.


And the constant, sad, uncertain stream of each news story

Distressed me-depressed me with panic worse than strenuous flus;

So that now to slow the dread, I mumbled prostrate from my bed

“‘Tis but leaves in the yard beneath some passing shoes-

Some jerk in my yard in passing shoes;-

I realized it was no time to snooze. 


Presently, I grew alerter paranoid from news of murder,

“Sir” said I, “or Madam, you of trespass I accuse!

The fact is I am close to snapping! You crinkle like a burger’s wrapping!

Show yourself and take a slapping! Slapping is the attack I choose!

I am built like Terry Crews!”


Into the night, I started staring, long I strained my eyes, hardly bearing,

The constant dry and crackling rustle that never lessens nor subdues;

The growing noise only stoked my fear as its source remained unclear,

And the only words there to hear was the phrase “Drive Throughs?”

This I sighed, and an echo groaned back the phrase, “Drive Throughs.”

I handled the truth worse than Tom Cruise. 


   Back onto my mattress falling, pretending I didn’t hear the calling,

Soon again though, came the flapping, now a sound that I could not confuse. 

“Clearly,” said I, “Clearly it’s a wrapper encrusted with dried-out lettuce;

Let me see, then, what the threat is, as I go to find refuse-

Let my mind be calm a moment as I go to seek refuse;”

I got up to look for clues.


Onward then I turned the lighting, when amid a sudden brightening,

Therein stood a creepy Kewpee wearing no shirt, pants, nor shoes;

Not the least attention it showed toward me, but for a hat, no clothing wore she;

Unsettling as the art of Edward Gorey, the Kewpee stood for burgers I could not refuse-

Printed on a Styrofom chalice, near the other cups that once amused-

A hallucination I failed to disabuse.



This unclad toddler forced my gloom to the forefront in my lighted room,

With its culinary toque and the spatula it used,

“Though you stand for burgers and fries,” I said, “you fail to appetize,

Naked pasty baby thighs forced obscure by Wendy’s ruse-

Tell me why I find myself nervous and confused!”

Quoth the Kewpee “Breaking News!”


I was surprised this cartoon baby could hear my inquiry so plainly, 

It’s reply a phrase I wish I my brain could lose,

For I cannot help but hearing, into my slipping sanity searing, 

Those two words signalling new situations to defuse

Kewpee cup harbinger of society eviler than Minions and their Grus.

With a proclamation of breaking news.


But the Kewpee blushing plainly on the flaccid cup, spoke only

Those two words, as if from the grail those two words did slowly ooze, 

Nothing further then it mumbled-as I shuddered, twitched, and stumbled

Until when I finally grumbled “My mind has likely blown a fuse-

In the morning, I’ll feel better, despite the blown brain fuse.”

Then the Kewpee said “Breaking News.”


   Flustered by the interruption and by the cartoon baby’s chilling gumption,

“Clearly,” said I, “what it says is nothing but a blatant ruse

Prompted by some depraved trickster to scramble my mind up like a mixer.”

I took a gulp of of my elixir- one of Milwaukee’s finest brews-

But the TV in my room bore that melancholy bruise,

A Chiron screaming “Breaking News!”


    But the Kewpee still unsettling, my addled nerves in need of fettling,

Down I plopped a bean bag chair in front of the Kewpee and the other cups in slews;

There upon the vinyl sweating, I betook myself to fretting

Worry begetting worry, betting that the Kewpee was following cues-

Who could feed this cutesy, nude chef-child corporate mascot cues?

To alert me to ever-more breaking news?


This I thought there, speculating, but not a word I considered stating, 

To the child whose cartoon eyes began to pierce like screws;

That and more I laid deciphering before the Kewpee in need of diapering

On the bean bag’s synthetic fibering that always smelled of Krazy Glues

And whose carcinogenic liner-ing smelling of ever-Krazier Glues

Was once the subject of, ah, Breaking News!


Slowly then, the air grew smelly, perfumed by my gassy belly

Loaded with burrito cannonballs, and a couple beers to light the fuse.

“Cup!” I cried, “Polystyrene soda silo, that I brought home from Ohio

Lay off-lay off and desist reminding me of the news;

Quaff, oh quaff this warm tall can and drown my fears in booze!”

Quoth the Kewpee “Breaking News.”


“Infant!” said I, “Discount Cupid!-much less weird if you were suited!-

Whether vile nightmare or whether you’re a product of my alcohol abuse, 

Your nudity you’ve casually flaunted, you disposable cup that’s clearly haunted-

Consider me now thoroughly taunted. Tell me as I sit before you bemused, 

Will there soon be a new normal? Will dining out again become my muse? 

Quoth the Kewpee “Breaking News!”


    “Mascot!” said I, “thing of marketing!-profit generating, appearance starkening!

By the state of Ohio below us-where I bought you with some foods-

As I sit with churning guts, tell me if in a few months, 

I shall inhabit a restaurant table, and eat food not from drive throughs-

Eat a burger, taco, chicken, fish not bought from drive throughs.”

Quoth the Kewpee “Breaking News!”


    “Those two words our sign of parting, Kewpee cup!” I yelled, while farting-

“Get thee back to Ohio with Rax Roast Beef and Cincinnati chili stews!

Leave no Styrofoam as evidence of your bad tidings of war and pestilence,

Leave me shaken in my residence! Leave my shelf, and follow my cues!

Take thy straw from out my brain, and from my life yourself recuse!”

Quoth the Kewpee, “Breaking News!”


And the Kewpee, never landing, still is standing, still is standing

On the flaccid Styrofoam chalice, in the environment it abused;

And its form has all the presence of a dark and evil essence,

Like a senator proclaiming, “My words against me you must use!”

As I pine for days gone by of wandering like Moses and the Jews

Put to a stop by breaking news!









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