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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required That's where her house used to stand smack dab in the middle of a dead end road The prettiest talker you'd ever want to hear Known for her elegant tea parties in her grand abode Red roses adorned the dining room Velvet petals sprinkled on linen crisply white Dainty finger sandwiches and luscious petit fours Mint tea served in porcelain cups, pinkies up, how polite Initial conversation focused upon good health, relations and the weather But the discussion turned, as the pretty talker's voice turned melodic Red painted lips and red roses created a red haze And the mint that filled the air was quite hypnotic The pretty talker aired the neighborhood's dirty laundry The pregnant teen, the womanizing drunkard, the elderly couple in foreclosure Under her spell, the guests became pretty talkers as well Revealing confidences no longer too private or damning for exposure Polite society dismissed, as the guests boldly defamed each and every neighbor that wasn't there Pretty talker's teeth gleamed as she smiled, another successful party Delighting over others' misfortune is pretty awful but she didn't care Once the guests left, they began to feel ashamed of themselves Gossiping wasn't usually this close knit neighborhood's cup of tea Most tossed and turned in their beds that night And by morning, they had strangely forgotten their loose lips calamity On the eve of each monthly tea, the pretty talker dragged a rusty cauldron into the dining room Pricking her finger with a rose thorn, her bitterness, hatred and jealousy spewed Spellbound by boiling putridity, she laughed at her neighbors' indignities, salivated over the mortifying secrets her guests divulged after drinking the potion she brewed And so it went for eons. The guests kept attending for they forgot what occurred at the tea the afternoon before Until one eve while preparing the tea, the pretty talker's lust for dramatic gossip grew more maniacal than before No matter how many visions of her neighbors' tears and fears appeared in that brew it wasn't enough, she wanted more. "More More!" she cried Drooling as the frothy venom bubbled and churned it called to her saying, "Come hither!" The cauldron opened wide, the pretty talker screamed and jumped inside I think there was 1 more dark hearted cackle before the entire house combusted Perhaps she grew a conscience and ending it was of her own accord Maybe a higher power decided it was time to step in Sometimes a person falls on their own sword 7/2/16
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