literature

Thursday: Battle On!

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Thursday: Battle On!
--------------------------------

My neighbour is evil,
of that there is no doubt.
He's a freak, a monster,
just a look, you'll pass out.

Yet one day he asked me,
for my lawn mower's aid.
Even though I said yes,
my disgust was betrayed.

And now one month later,
with no lawn mower seen.
He's not giving it back,
I was right, he is mean!

But now I'm done waiting,
can't take it no more.
I'll reclaim what is mine
even if it means war!

I've spent the time planning,
and have got a lil' plan.
I have all that  I need
to take down the old "man":

His abdomen is large,
and whirring with its fans.
A good amount of clay -
the problem's off my hands.

The laser-shooting eyes?
Still eyes with weaknesses.
Fresh squirts of orange juice
the problem will address.

As for the poison arms,
a broom will do the trick.
I'll use my fencing skills,
with feint and flèche and flick!

The bucket in the end,
will serve its final role!
I'll slam it in his face,
it's sure to take its toll!

A perfect plan indeed,
so certain of success.
With this freak out and gone,
my neighbourhood be blessed.

With everything in hand
I take my final stand
in my neighbours garage
where all will go as planned.

I've waited long enough,
no patience left to spend.
I knock some things over,
no care to make amends.

And just as I had hoped,
the ruckus was enough.
My nemesis soon shows,
there standing tall and gruff.

His eyes are so bitter,
his demenour so cold.
The windtunnel's churning,
the laser eyes bold.

I find myself thinking,
is this how I'll die?
Not a chance! I won't fall
to this freak of a guy!

"It is now," I declare,
as I straighten my back.
"You will fall, ugly freak!"
and I start my attack!

As I try to get close,
to get juice in his eyes,
it is too hard to do,
need the element of surprise...

The clay is flung,
the aim is true!
But fans are strong,
"Right back at you!"

The arms strike fast,
pound by pound.
I slip and fall
onto the ground.

Underneath me,
a cracking sound
I care not check,
must hold my ground.

Orange slices,
one by one.
Quickly, quickly,
please hit home!

A mere distraction,
he goes for the kill.
I cover my head,
though do little it will.

A quiet then comes,
machinery slows.
I dare looking up,
seeing his now-still pose.

And I'm holding my breath,
not a sound can be heard,
not a wind in the trees,
nor the chirp of a bird.

And that's when I notice,
just a bit to the side,
a mirror stands broken
and I see with eyes wide:

An odd-looking creature
that is crafted of clay,
sharp orange peel scales
and a broom's bushy tail.

He then follows my gaze,
taking one sidewards step,
making both of us fit
in the glass spider's web.


I think both of us knew,
from that one fateful time
Underneath all of this...
We're the same, you and I.

~
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