Thursday, April 07, 2011
To Morris the Monkey, a Scientific Script
Not to Smedley, who's phlegmatic,
or Rita, who's Rita--they’ll be
controls. The little leaguers
/Cue Take Me Out to the Ballgame/
backed by this lab are
off to Puerto Rico, so, more
grant money requisite, Amigo.
/Cue Pennies From Heaven/
(All these nerd PhDs /cue Goofus/
with athletic kids!) You stole
the key to the ladies’ room,
enlisted chimp Aristophanes
/Cue Helter Skelter/
and broke into the Kotex machine,
him eating the stock. Then, unholy
pair, you ripped out the tank
mechanism of the toilet, smashed
a window, ended chasing the shriek-
ing peacocks round the reflection pool.
(I’ll not forget the full aural
chaos of that four AM phone call
from jabbering guard, Alfonso.)
/cue I Go to Pieces —discordant harmonica/
’ll cost us to remedy these mischiefs,
little Morris. But, not the reason
you're getting the cancer. Oh well…
that’s science, fresh buddy!
Someday we may even learn
what you think of us.
/cue laughter/
Labels: animal experimentation
