Why, hello there,
You’ve come back again I see,
I was starting t’ think you’d jus’ leave me, honey,
Like e’ryone else has –
I think my own chillum have e’en lef’ me –
Haven’ seen ‘em in forever
Course e’en an hour seem like fore’er when you’re dyin’.
….
Lil’ buddy,
Do dwarves die?
If you go ‘fore me
I’m comin’ to your funeral.
Ever wonde’
Why the wor’ “fun”’s’n
Th’ wor’ “funeral”
Can’t’magine how one woul’ be fun…
…
Why of course I like pumpkin juice
Have you ever met a person who hasn’t?
You have?
Well shame on them.
Pardon?
Wha’ you say now?
Oh that lil’ thang?
I’ stops the pain,
See, I jus’ needa press this here bu’on
And the pain goes ‘way –
But they’re cuttin’ me back -
Sayin’ I don’t have much time lef’ anyway.
Than’s for bein’ here’n my last hours
M’ son couldn’t even come
Sai’ a plane ticket’d cost too much
And my daugh’er
I scare her now, I think
Can’t even see lil’ Bethie –
She’s my gran’aughter, see?
…
Dwarfie?
Where’re you?
I’s too dark,
I can’t see!
You said you’d stay here with me,
Where are you?
I can’t hear you,
That beeping’s gettin’ loud’n’fast.
Dwarfie?
It hurts so bad.
Where are you, Dwarfie?
Author notes
Flatline. Hope you don't mind me killing your character....
A contest entry
- a little fun with characterisation by aeolia.
500 points, ended January 5, 12 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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"Why the wor’ “fun”’s’n
Th’ wor’ “funeral”
I actually just said that to my friend yesterday! Strange.
Absolutely fantastic use of childish, sort of drugged dialect, here; you pulled the bizarre prompt (sorry! haha
) off better than I'd expect for anyone, and the fact that you made this a bit subdued and not so melodramatic helped. I liked the random conversation about pumpkin juice, too!
Thanks for the entry & good luck... hopefully you had fun with this!
-malvolio -
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Thanks very much for the kind comment, awesome contest and cool prompt. I really enjoyed writing this poem. Thanks.
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Due to popular demand, I'll probably have another contest like this soon, if you want to do this again!
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haha cant wait to read this one
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Nancy Grosvenor, 89, a lonely, dying cancer patient who is slightly out of her mind due to drugs and old age, hallucinates and believes that a three-metre tall Smurf has been at her bedside all night; she holds a conversation (your poem) with it, but does not know she is crazy/the Smurf isn’t there. She can tell it whatever you see fit.
Have fun!
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