I wrote this last year for Valentines Day.
Open your mouth like the hippopotamus walking down the street swallowing every man he sees. Carry your arms like the monkey clinging to the tree on which he pees. Blow your nose, wipe your mouth, wash your hair because the date you dread most is coming. You prepare yourself for this time of year because you have a little person inside of you hoping for love or at least someone of some sort of significance to come your way. But when this day comes nearer and nearer, you soon start to realize that you are lonelier than you were last year. So you sit in your favorite chair and wonder about what you’re doing wrong and your mind wanders off into a jungle and you see hippos and monkeys eating and pissing on everyone you’ve hated in your life. This thought has comforted you because you know they deserve it.
But wait…you’ve just remembered this isn’t you. Not me. You have someone you have loved for nearly half of your life. And this thought, again, comforts you. You don’t see your typical fields of daisies and moonlight when you think of this lover. You think of this lover tenderly moving their car into your driveway and parking it there for a good three days. Then you are left speechless at the sight of a black oil stain seeping into the cracks of the pavement…you’ll never get that out now.
“I might have a girlfriend by tomorrow,” said the one with a ‘fro.
“Did you lose a bet?”
“No,” the one said, “I have been talking to her for a week and I think I’m going to ask her for her hand tomorrow.”
“Very much thanks… don’t think you’ll be seeing much of me anymore. I’ve got a life of my own now. Good being friends with you.”
The one with a ‘fro found a new heavenly love and with no sympathy the one decided to overwhelm this new miss with his undivided love. I wonder if that miss knows that her ‘fro is an architect of destruction. She must be masochistic because I’d never love a man who misuses his hands. I have never seen this miss but I will assume she fits in the ‘fro’s pocket…’fro is very controlling but has no control of where the hips go…that is (unfortunately) not for love making.
“I’ll give you guys a thousand years.”
“Don’t humor me with your unedifying innocence- I can never live that long.”
This so called “day of love” hit my calendar and I reluctantly made love to my brother-incest. Its funny how this date came about, you see, there once was a saint (maybe even three) named Valentine. One day a man named Claudius decided to have them killed because they were married or something and married men can’t be tough. So before Valentine’s death he wrote to a lovely young lady and at the end of his letter he said “From your Valentine”. So I guess people admired his love-filled spirit and made a holiday out of it. How charming.