He Who Softens
Littered like burial mounds
The piles of dirty clothes lay
Scattered around, sorted out,
Yes. It was laundry day.
On advice from her mother
In her arms did she juggle
Three new fabric softeners
From a bear known as Snuggle.
As Karen loaded the machine
Poured in detergent spitter-spatter
From the hallway past the kitchen
A baby soft pitter-patter.
She whipped round to see
The blood in her veins had froze
Carefully, quietly she maneuvered
Through the laundry piles on tiptoes.
Moving down the hallway
Towards her darkened bedroom
She spied a moving shadow
Bouncing low against the gloom.
A tiny creature bumbled forward,
A vision that could not be true
The fluffy, beady-eyed Snuggle Bear
Skittered into view.
“Hi, there,” it said.
The coy little bear giggled.
“Let’s cuddle,” it suggested
With a plush tushy wiggle.
And with that, the critter leapt,
Latched onto her leg with zeal.
Climbing up her thigh,
The softy copped a little feel.
Up her torso, the little cub crept.
He said, “Blankets shouldn’t struggle.”
But her continued rejections only enticed
The bear known only as Snuggle.
Karen punched and scratched
At this thing that should not be
She threw the Snuggle Bear across the room
Attempting at once to flee.
As she pushed up off her knees
Trying at once to stand,
She cursed her mother’s insistence
On this particular softener brand.
Snuggle quickly followed
In his hand did something now gleam.
“Come try my latest scent,” he said,
“I call it ‘Kidney Burst of Spring’!”
Startled, she ran through the house
Tripping on the piles of clothes
Twisting around she saw before her
The black, glassy eyes up close.
Stumbling back she saw in its paw
A contrast most obscene,
Against his dull and woolen fur
A needle sharp and clean.
Grabbing her again, it said,
“Some file this under abuse.
Me, I’d rather like
To label this: ‘alternative use’.”
But no matter how much she fought,
She thrashed to and fro
The Snuggle Bear held tight
And would not let go.
A sharp little pinch
In her thigh a prick of pain
As the needle found its mark
And Snuggle found a good vein.
“No need to fret,” he said,
“Don’t worry your pretty head.
There’ll be plenty of time to snuggle
Every moment till you’re dead.”
Karen blacked out and upon awaking
Found that she had not died,
But could not move, could barely breathe
Her bones had liquefied.
Now, but one in a pile of Snuggle’s “blankets”
She was trapped in his perverse dream.
Waiting for death, she only cried
For she could no longer scream.
09/22/06
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