Crescent Roll Rising
Mr. Johnson was rather pleased
This was one of those better days
The ex was finally gone
And he’d finally gotten that raise.
So, to celebrate this high
In his most mundane career
He popped into the fridge
To grab himself a beer.
Suddenly, from behind him
A voice said, “Hello, Roy.”
As he slowly turned in horror
And faced the Pilsbury Doughboy.
Mr. Johnson was in shock.
He could not believe his eyes.
He thought the twerp gone
But much to his surprise
The cutesy little baker boy
Had not met his demise.
“While I was in the oven,” he explained,
“There was something you didn’t find.
As most of my body baked,
A little dough was left behind!”
Mr. Johnson realized now
The tables had been turned
For in the mascot’s eyes
A terrible hatred burned
And for the next few moments
Despite his desperate tries
Not a single soul responded
To his tortured, painful cries.
By the time police arrived
They found that far from “poppin’ fresh”
The stench in the kitchen
Was the smell of burning flesh.
And the Pilsbury Doughboy,
Having watched his first victim die
Knew that there was no going back
And no more Mr. Nice Guy.
02/17/96