Thursday, December 27, 2012

The Valrus and the Carpenter

Let's see...who am I in a mood to plagiarize tonight? Could it Carroll? Yes! That's the ticket. Lewis Carroll it is!

Did I ever tell you about the time Linda O'Connell made me kill dead hookers?

A while back, I consulted the inimitable Linda about a submission for one of the Not Your Mother's Book titles. It was a cute little piece concerning Hick's obsession with hair styles, haircuts, and what he claimed was the indisputable fact that all prostitutes have dark hair parted in the middle. Hick reached this conclusion after watching a show about a serial killer in Arizona.

Linda is hereafter referred to as The Carpenter. That's because she is adept at constructing submissions, and not one to shy away from hammering them or cutting them until they can stand on their own. The Carpenter. Not to be confused with A Carpenter's Dream, which is flat as a board and easy to nail. Got it?


The Valrus and the Carpenter
Were talking close at hand;
They read like anything, you see,
E-mails across the land:
"If this were only edited..."
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven pens
Would slash for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Valrus said,
"That they could make it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And chugged another beer.
"O Linda, help me submit this!"
The Valrus did beseech.
"A pleasant tale of hooker hair,
A killer, and his niche.
My husband has some weird ideas;
Help me? You're a peach!"

So Linda read Val's piece again,
For she had made this bed.
Killers? Hookers? What the hell…
And shook her heavy head--
Meaning to say she did not wish
To be down this path led.

"The time has come," the Valrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of hoes--and snips--and killing facts--
Of comedy--and zings--
And why my tale is funny--NOT
And whether my prose sings."

"You cut a bit," sage Linda cried,
"Let's have a little chat;
Nobody wants to read about
Dead working girls like that."
"No hoes, you say?" a-sputtered Val,
There goes my tagline, RAT!"

"All right. I thank you for your help.
You are so very nice."
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Let's cut that worthless slice;
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Valrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
To bring my readers out so far,
Then cut it to the quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"You've piled it on too thick!"

"I weep for me," the Valrus said:
"I'm deeply traumatized."
With sobs and tears she snorted out;
"I'll do it--'cause you're wise."
She slashed her tainted darlings then
Amidst dramatic sighs.

"O Val," typed out the Carpenter,
"This ain't the only one!
All of your stories need some cuts!"
But answer there came none--
For Val was plotting on and on…
Lest Linda think she won.


  1. I would be quite dismayed
    If this poem in an evening was made.

    Bravo! Encore! Encore!

  2. Harboring hostilities? Cut it out :) A mazing poem! How long did it take you to turn me into the Grinch?

  3. I do know that carpenter is pretty talented and also good with a chisel. But hooker hair sounds like a great topic to me. P.S., I have seven pens if you need them.

  4. Sioux,
    Well, then, you'll just have to be dismayed. It's amazing what one can accomplish when stealing the work of another.

    If you are referring to the purloined work itself: one hour. If you are referring to your recent villainization: not yet complete.

    I realize that I need a filter, a gatekeeper to protect me from myself. However...the seeds of your Grinchness were sown at the very moment my new name of HOOKER escaped your book-signing-attending lips.

    In acknowledgement of your bribe, I shall weave my slashed tale of dead hooker hair just for you.

    Now I am trying to decipher the SEVEN pens. One for each day of the week, like labeled panties, such as a mom of Jerry Seinfeld's date might lay out for her? Or are you rationing them, perhaps, like obsolete contraceptive sponges, and declaring me pen-worthy times seven?