Gregory Frank Harris, American
“Oh Yeah? Well, YO Momma’s So Fat, When She Walked In Front of the TV, I Missed 3 Seasons of “Downton Abbey,'” Date Unknown
Oil on canvas panel
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/// We were having Late Afternoon Tea,
just my sister Camelia and me.
Seated outdoors among
floral blooms, she was stung,
when her bonnet attracted a bee.
/// At “The Magic Hour” bathed in gold beams,
her great beauty seemed airy, like dreams.
Then the sting caused such pain
to her scalp and her brain,
that she shattered my vase with her screams.
/// Our tea table was set for a third,
(as was custom, when teatime occurred).
Sister talked to the chair,
although no one was there,
sensing voices that no one else heard.
/// Slanting light from the soon-to-set sun
hit the tablecloth, lacily spun.
Through the lacework I peered—
it was just as I feared,
in her lap she was holding a gun.
/// After Cam’s pain-fueled screaming had ceased
she conversed with her husband, (the beast).
But to Bea’s great despair
no one sat in his chair.
Cam confessed that he now was deceased.
/// Well aimed gunshots had ended his life
from the hand of his sharp-shooter wife.
Sister Bea’s more than vexed
with the thought, “Am I next?”
Just in case, Beatrice reached for her knife.
/// To poor Bea, gunplay was a surprise.
She was left with one choice— improvise.
The one knife that she owns
is for buttering scones*,
and could hardly prevent her demise.
/// But I’m glad to report Bea’s not dead!
Her mad sister’d been stung in the head.
Venom drove her insane
when it flowed to her brain
so she shot at the beehive instead.
*To non-American readers, my apologies for using this pronunciation in my rhyme.