A MAN WALKED INTO A TAVERN

By P.K. Silverson

© Copyright 2009
By The Author
All Rights Reserved

A man walked into a tavern.
He came in from a terrible storm.
Drawn by the light of the fire,
And the chance to eat and get warm.

He was greeted by music and laughter.
The serving wench gave him a smile.

“I’ll bet you’d like a drink and some supper,
And to get off your feet for a while.

So pull off that wet coat you’re wearin’.
The fire’s just got a fresh log.”

He nodded and then shambled hearthside.
He petted the inn-keeper’s dog.

Over the mantle and through the wall,
The wind continued to blow.
It blustered and brayed,
And howled and bayed
At the trembling earth below.

But under the rooftop, throughout the room,
The aroma of roast veal,
And mutton and quail,
Potatoes and ale.
A most substantial meal.

The man who walked into the tavern,
Searched the room for a chair.
Almost every table was taken.
There was hardly a space anywhere.

Then the man saw a booth in the corner
With room enough for two.
But only one fellow was in it.
It seemed almost too good to be true.

So man went up to the table,
And said,

“I hate to impose,
But if you don’t mind, may I join you?
I’m hungry and nearly quite froze.”

“Oh, me. Oh, my. Oh why, oh why?”

The occupant inquired.
And he looked at the man, who continued to stand,
With a stare that bordered on horror.

“Oh, me. Oh, my.
Oh why, oh why?
Oh why, oh why? Oh why, oh?
Who’s to say there’s a better way.
Oh I try, I try. I try. Oh!”

“Never mind,”

Said the man to himself as
He backed away from the table.

“Never mind, I’ll stand as I eat and
I’ll just do the best that I’m able.”

The miserable wretch at the table
Looked up and shouted,

“Oh, no!
I didn’t see you were talking to me
Please stay a while, just don’t go!”

So the man sat down at the table
As the wench came back with his food.
He took his first bite as she waited,
Then thanked her and told her,

“It’s good.”

While his dinner was quiet for a moment,
His companion appeared quite upset.

“Tell me what’s wrong,”

He said hesitantly.
The wretch started in with regret.

“Did you ever get the feeling
That you were the butt of the joke?
Did you ever wish you were still dreaming
After you’d already awoke?

“I know we’ve never met, sir.
But I fit in that odd category
Of a person you’ve heard of before, sir.
And here is my miserable story:

“I once met a beautiful girl
And fell head-over-heels into love.
I’d do anything human for her.
I’d move earth and heaven above.

“So I went down on my bended knee
And asked her to be my wife.
When she said, ‘Yes!’ then and there.
‘Twas the happiest day of my life.

“The very best of all
Was the very day we wed.
I’d barely got her home
When she pulled me into bed.

“I won’t go into sordid details.
You can use your imagination.
But I’ll tell you without a qualm
That she filled me full with elation.

“It was all straight downhill after that.
There was nothing I could do.
Within the year that we had wed
She turned into a shrew.

“Not a thing I did was good enough
To catch or hold her interest.
She just ate and ate and laid around.
Got up late and never dressed.

“A year went by
Right on the fly
Where the time went, I just blew it.
And, like the girl I’d married,
Disappeared before I knew it.

“In one last attempt to show her
Just what she meant to me,
I decided to buy a special gift
For our first anniversary.

“A gift to make her happy,
(And turn our life around).
Not food or drinklets.
No clothes, no trinkets.
A pet. A cat or hound.

“There’s a pet shop on our corner,
So I dropped in for a visit.
And like an honest salesman,
The owner said, “What is it?”

“I told him I was looking for
A special kind of present.
Not just a dog or kitten,
But something truly different.

“I told him what I wanted,
He said, ‘I know what you mean.
You want something quite unusual,
That no one has ever seen.’

“And I agreed wholeheartedly.
He said, ‘I’ve got just the thing.
Exactly what you’re looking for.
It’s right here, on the wing.’”

He smiled and wagged his finger,
And gestured with his thumb.
‘Please join me in the back room,’
He beckoned me to come.

“I stepped into that back room
And this I won’t deny.
The creature that I saw there
Really caught my eye.

“What’s that?” I asked, but softly.
‘Cause I could barely breathe.
‘A Munchbird,’ said the owner.
‘He’s something.’
I agreed.

“He really was a marvel
His feathers bold and bright.
His colors took my breath away
In even dim room light.

” ‘I’ve never seen a Munchbird,’
I said when I could speak.
‘Nor I,’ the owner told me.
‘Or not before last week.’

” ‘Does he talk?
Does he squawk?
Does he fly around?
Can you train him to do tricks?’
‘Don’t know,’ the owner said and shrugged.
‘But ain’t he just a kick?’

“I laughed and clapped and nodded, ‘Yes.’
My search was then complete.
But before I paid and took him home,
I asked, “What does he eat?”

” ‘Oh, he’ll chow down on anything,’
The owner there assured me.
‘And if you want to see something,
I’ll show you this for free:

” ‘Just hold an object in your hand
The left or right don’t matter.
Then mind the beak and say these words
And watch the crumbs just scatter.’

“He took a pencil in his hand
And held it o’er his head.
He winked at me and then he spoke,
These words: ‘Munchbird, the lead.’

“A flap, a whirr, a blaze of red
A streak that made me shriek.
The mighty fowl leapt off his perch
And grabbed it in his beak.

“He took it with a crunching sound
I’d never want to hear.
He took the pencil in his beak,
And made it disappear.

” ‘See there, what did I tell you?
You can’t believe it’s real!’
He said, ‘Let’s go one better,
Let’s watch him eat this wheel.’

“The owner found a carriage wheel
And held it even higher
Above his head just to be sure.
Then said: ‘Munchbird, the tire.’

“A flap, a whirr, a blaze of red
A streak that made me shriek.
The mighty fowl leapt off his perch
And grabbed it in his beak.

“He took it with a crunching sound
I’d never want to hear.
He took that big wheel in his beak,
And made it disappear.

“A while passed ‘fore I could say
I’d come back to my senses.
But when I did, you sure can bet
I had no more defenses.

“I said ‘I’ll take him,’ fast enough,
And would have paid much more,
If the owner’d wanted it
To get him out the door.

“The bird was somewhat heavy
And it was quite a fight
To carry him down just one street
To get him home that night.

“But I thought it was worth it
And more to save my life.
Much more to see a smile again
From my own darling wife.

“I set the bird down gently,
And tip-toe’d to the stair.
I called her very softly,
“Oh, darling, please come here.”

“The rafters shook and rattled
As she got out of bed.
‘This best be good,” she bellowed,
‘Or I’ll whack your silly head.’

“I smiled as she descended,
The perfect diplomat.
And pointed at the Munchbird.
My wife just said, ‘What’s that?’

” ‘Oh, my own sweet darling,’
I said with feinted glee.
‘It’s all for you because it’s
Our first anniversary.’

“She glared at me, and at the bird,
And then, just like a cat,
She licked her puffy lips just once,
And asked again, “What’s that?”

“What’s that?” I said, but softly.
‘Cause I could barely breath.
‘A Munchbird and he’s something.
Just watch and you’ll agree.’

“But my wife didn’t wait because
She really was quite crass.
And so she said the fatal words.
She said: ‘Munchbird, my ass.’

“A flap, a whirr, a blaze of red
A streak that made me shriek.
The mighty fowl leapt off his perch
And opened up his beak.

“He made again that crunching sound
I’m sure you know the rest.
Because you’ve heard the joke before
And I don’t tell it best.”

“Oh, me. Oh, my. Oh why, oh why?”

The poor wretch looked much sicker.
As his companion watched him
With a stare all glazed from liquor.

“Oh, me. Oh, my.
Oh why, oh why?
Oh why, oh why? Oh why, oh?
Who’s to say there’s a better way.
Oh I try, I try. I try. Oh!”

The man who walked into the tavern,
Searched the room for escape.
But every table was taken.
And his friend was in bad shape.

And so, so very kindly he
Put down his fork and knife.
And asked as gently as he could,

“What happened to your wife?”

“Cosmetic surgeons patched her,
But she’ll never sit again.”

“And the bird?”

the man inquired.

“Still at home ’til who knows when?

“I tried next day to bring him back.
But the shop takes no returns.
If there’s a problem with their wares,
It’s none of their concerns.

“So the bird’s in the house
Alone with my wife
Who can’t get close enough
To kill it with a knife.

“And I sit and drink
‘Til my brain’s rotted through.
So what do you think?”

The man asked,

“Is it true?”

Over the mantle and through the wall,
The wind continued to blow.
It blustered and brayed,
And howled and bayed
At the trembling earth below.

But under the rooftop, throughout the room,
The laughter was all gone,
The story had depressed
Everyone.
And every face was drawn.

“Oh, me. Oh, my. Oh why, oh why?”

The poor wretch looked his sickest.
As his companion glanced around
For the exit that was quickest.

“Oh, me. Oh, my.
Oh why, oh why?
Oh why, oh why? Oh why, oh?
Who’s to say there’s a better way.
Oh I try, I try. I try. Oh!”

The first man drew a breath and sighed,

“You’ve made me a believer.
Don’t bring home things
You can’t live without,
If you can’t live with them,
Either.”