Vicar-ious Verse: The Readiness is All

Well, another rough week for updates--blame it on tax time, insomnia, or the fact I neglected to bring my thumb drive to work today. New reviews are coming, but in the meantime, enjoy this bit of b-movie poetry (B-Sonnet?) by the Vicar!


The Readiness is All

I've filed my toenails down to sharpened points
and practiced crawling up the castle walls;
built up my pecs and stretched out all my joints
so I can crazy-walk down darkened halls.

I've spent hours at the glass perfecting glares
and teasing out the gray hairs in my ears;
and I can creep down cobweb-covered stairs
without breaking one strand--that took me years.

So when those teenagers' car has a flat
and they come to my door to use the phone
(my cell reception's nil--imagine that!),
I'll greet them with a polished, chilling groan,

Listen impassively, invite them in--
and then, whoa Nelly! Let the show begin!


You can read more of the Vicar's horror sonnets here.