patricidal

Once upon a thirsty Thursday
in the jolly month of June
seven brothers undertook a quest
to cross the land from east to west
one sunny afternoon.

Their quest? To find a bright new bride
for their dad, a sad old geezer
who’d loved and lost his lifetime’s guide
upon the day his wife had died
when death did come to seize her.

The problem though, with dear old dad
was that he wasn’t all that dear.
As grumpy as a hungry hog
behind his back they called him “dog”
and feared his growl to hear.

“Who’s they?” I hear you shyly ask
“all who knew him” is the answer
he was universally despised
his faults just couldn’t be disguised
and he was a lousy dancer.

But his sons they felt they owed him one
they had to do their duty
to set him up, to see him right
every single, sweaty night
with a sweet but older cutie.

In the local rag they placed an ad
and waited for the calls
the ad described in words of praise
their dad who'd seen much better days
but still retained his balls.

The brothers wrote down everything
a list of don'ts and dooze
the questions that they planned to ask
as part of their matchmaking task
throughout the interviews.

Responding to their little ad
came women streaming through the door
each was judged upon her merits
one loved cats, another, ferrets
they judged each one they saw.

All day long and through the night
they held an open audition.
“What would you say and what would you do
if a man did to you what it is that men do
without first getting permission?”

Most were fine, and some were willing
one was tall and blonde and able
in their eyes she was a looker
'twas a shame she was a hooker
a marriage would've been unstable

She found the brothers pretty weird
uneasy, strange and nervous they
more so than any John or Jack
for whom she'd lain upon her back
on many a night and day.

Their dad was not a patient man
never had been never would
but he'd agreed that he would wait
and in the meantime masturbate
all that was understood

“Leave it to us, we know the score"
they glibly told their father
“a perfect girl, no less no more
we’ll find you one who’s not a whore
or one who is... if you'd rather.”

Sixty nine young women later
they were on the verge of quitting
“Maybe we should boost the price
or find more ways to be more nice
such as no more spitting?”

And so they looked, and seeked, and sought
until every face was just a blur.
“So what’s the prob?” dad’s voice was gruff
“it’s been six months” he barked, “enough!
I’ll go myself and find her!”

So off he went straight out the door
and headed for the tavern
where he did sit and think and drink
and sink and drink and drink and sink
into a deep dark cavern.

A cavern of despair you see
was where poor drunken dad had sunk
upon the floor that broke his fall
that sparked a wild and bloody brawl
in the bar where he had drunk.

And from that brawl, he n’er returned
which made the brothers feel forlorn
that they had caused the death of he
who’d helped to bring each son to be
nine months before when each one was born.

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