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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Somewhere soft and padded.... Today her hands are free to explore. Her throat burns with acid from a heave of fresh gore. She grunts and reaches for a blood-dripping meat. With the bones of our children she picks her teeth. No longer do the pupils come, Roused and fattened with Stahlberg's rum. No longer may her con be made, Bewitching the flesh to beg for the blade. A thought interrupts this blasphemous script, Lamenting John Anderson, and his one missing bit: "Mrs. Stahlberg is truly evil. She belongs down in the depths of hell, To burn forever with the Devil, In the everlasting flames she should dwell. She deserves great and eternal pain, Cruel and unusual punishment. But she would soon overpower Cain, And put an end to all her torment. Then she'd start to torture other souls, And make their pain very, very great. Then she would come and terrorize the schools, And to the students release her hate. Mrs. Stahlberg should be killed slowly, 'cause her soul sure-as-hell ain't holy." Twenty years later.... It was ten minutes to closing when I noticed A scummy liquid spilling from a table to the floor Where a large-mouthed woman sat gorging, oblivious, on ... What was it she was stuffing into that grotesque, huge maw? I was shaken and frightened -- what a pitiful sight. Just an old crazy eating A fast meal On a snowy, cold night. I regained my footing -- my resolve grew tight. I was alone with the eater, her drippings A dizzying stench of urine and vice. Damn this degenerate who delayed my home flight. I said, "Miss, we're closing. Go home. Take a rest." How stupid, I thought, as I slipped on her mess. She neither spoke nor stopped eating that horrible chow But leered at me, dripping, special sauce and dead cow.
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