T'was the Day of Monday Morning

This is a story about my favorite government employee.



T'was the day of Monday morning, when all through the train
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Muggle.

The seats were half filled by sleepy commuters,
with hopes that their train would be for once on-time.

The tourists we all nestled all snug with their Ipods,
while visions of American Idol danced in their heads.

The collector in his work cap, and I in my hat,
had just got my ticket punched, and was ready to nap.

Then the train stopped and opened its doors,
and on poured more commuters, walking the floors.

Asleep on the window, I slept a deep sleep.
I drooled on my sweatshirt, and dreampt of myself.

As the seats filled with new found butts,
my open seat was targeted by some damned putz.

Then what to my suprised ears did I hear,
but some idiot slam his briefcase without any fear.

When he plopped in the seat all too quick,
I knew in a moment it must be that "Dick"!

Real rancid cough drops the odor came,
but he unwrapped and ate it, all of the same.

Now hateful, and angry, and no longer asleep,
I plotted ways how to kill him, and dump him in creeks.

To the next stop we came, the conductor proclaimed,
as I dreamed about choking and leaving "Dick" maimed.

As the train shuttered, and moved out of the station,
I stopped and considered my legal representation

So towards Chicago we drew,
with a train full of commuters, and that asshole too.

then another voice, I heard on the speaker,
while I thought of choking "Dick" with my sneaker.

As a balled up my fist and was turning around,
into 57th Street we stopped with a bound.

"Dick's" coat was faux fur, his hair a combover,
his clothes all looked like blue light leftovers.

Then he got up and slammed his case off of the rack,
It looked like a bomb case, which he dropped with a whack.

His eyes- how they glossed, his pock marks so hairy,
his glasses coke bottles, his nose large and scary.

His fat little mouth, adorned with a scowl,
the stuble on his chin, as grey as a trowl.

With a foul look, he clenched his dentures,
as he took up his place as the center doors,

I curled up at the window, and attempted tried to relax
all I could think of was murder with an axe.

He was fat and grumpy, an ugly old self,
then I laughed when I saw him, with spite of hisself

A blink of his eyes and the sight of his head
Soon gave to see nothing, but wishing him dead.

He spoke not a word, but stared at the floor,
As a fat Gordita, walked to the door.

And laying his finger in his nose, out the door he walked
He stompted to the stairs, but to no one he talked,
I followed behind, my prey being stalked.

I tripped him tripped on the stairs, and he fell face first
"Don't sit in my seat, or next time it will be worse"[/quote]