Now if this isn't an example of doing nothing, I don't know what is!
Me and Pop - a poem by T. Waugh
We arrived on a day
when the cook was away, and the butler had gone on vacation.
I said to my father,
“It's really a bother, and no one was there at the station.”
“Oh, it isn't so
bad,” said my dear old Dad, “in fact it could even be worse.
Suppose for example,
that nuclear sample had fallen from inside your purse!
And think if that
vial from the nuclear pile had split and its contents had spilt.
If the lack of a
ride your patience has tried, just think about that kind of guilt.”
Of course, he was
right, and with all of my might I repented of my apprehension.
After all, I had
reasoned, a platform all seasoned with uranium might bring attention
To the fact that we
had, both me and my Dad, just purloined that powerful potion,
From the local
reactor, and it now was a factor, in our most diabolical notion.
So, now, at the
house of the surviving spouse of the late and great J. Glowplug
Smith,
Both I and my Daddy,
(Oh! He was a baddy) could start on our project forthwith.
We got out of the
cab and went straight to the lab, which of course, it was down in the
cellar.
It was really
outrageous, with all kinds of gauges and dials and a great big
propellor.
So we set to the
task, using beaker and flask, of brewing our sneaky concoction.
Like two bees in a
hive, with U 235, we began to prepare for the auction.
An anonymous party,
no not Holmes' Moriarty, but another and equally vile,
Had pledged a king's
ransom, a fortune quite handsome, even though he himself was on
trial,
To the man or the
team who'd put life in his dream of creating a powerful mixture
Of thises and thats
or the wings of some bats and contained in a secretive fixture.
The use he proposed
for the goop so enclosed was something he never divulged,
But Daddy and I
decided to try, imagining pocketbooks bulged,
To be those two
guys, to win that big prize by creating a wonderful something
By using uranium and
thoughts from Pop's cranium, which seems odd but is not such a dumb
thing.
It took sev'ral
weeks for the two of us geeks to find just the right combination,
But with trial and
error and a trifle of terror, and of course there was lots of
frustration,
We mixed and we
stirred, with nary a word, our fluid without no compunction.
'Twas hard you might
guess, to mix up this mess because we did not know its function.
But at last it was
done, and although it was fun, we mainly just wanted the money.
For you see Dad and
me just wanted to be in a clime that was more warm and sunny.
Well, the guy was
acquitted, which factor just fitted our pleasure as you might
surmise.
So the auction took
place, in a small secret place with just us and a few other guys.
The anonymous party
(no, not Moriarty) was ready with all of that loot.
Tho' no one could
say, on that most fateful day, if he kept it inside of his boot.
Now each preparation
on that most grim occasion was brought to this vile little man.
And out of the room,
with each one he'd zoom, reminiscent of old Peter Pan.
When he came to our
stuff, he'd had nearly enough of sadness and great disappointment
For none of the
others, not sisters or brothers, created a salve or an ointment
That suited the
needs of the man in the tweeds whose fortune for which we all vied.
In fact I would say,
on that special day, he was just about fit to be tied.
When at last he took
ours (it smelled like some flowers) and out of the room he did hie,
He returned in a
nonce, said, “It's just what I wants. Got the gravy stain out of my
tie!”
