The Tea Party

A game of musical chairs has just begun in earnest. A pot and kettle band arrives through the dining rooms’ French doors following the Valentine Queen. A putrid pink flamingo with a croquet ball stuck in its beak settles it’s derrière onto a fine caramel leather seat. His humor is short lived. A snort echoes from each of the six bullhorns forming his head. “Got him that time, you really did, Matilda!” laughed Lucky, the horn-backed chair. A single, rose-pink, button pops off Matilda’s back and lands in the hatless brigands’ teapot, just as he is placing a silver tea ball inside. “Ou a le petite fille?” Matilda groans. Around the far end of the table chasing a set of disembodied eyes with a cat tail, a girl child runs screeching. “She looks familiar, don’t she?” Windy whistles beneath the lacy tablecloth, tickling Mattie’s fancy. “Her name ain’t Louise,” as with a plop, a brigand crushes Laddie’s rushes. The windsor replies. “Geeeeeeeeez Louise!” the ladder-back mutters, between its back straps. A top hat flies through the air and landed on the top knob of the lanky ladder backed chair. The child righted herself, wiping her nose on the errant apron string. She lisps through the spider web pattern of her seat. “Awww now what a shame,” Mary whispers to Tex. The loose tails of her apron caught beneath Mary’s rocker and the child tumbled face forward into a full cup of Assam tea. A girl child resplendent in golden locks and white pinafore tore into the room planting herself on the caned ladies rocker Mary. “Mon Dieu” She moans. “Ya’ll see that nasty monster splatter chocolate icing on my skirt?” A knob kneed, potbellied prig, holding a cupcake, shoves his way onto Matilda, the little ladies slipper chair. Tex the horned back chair at the tables girdle chortles. “Do you know who’s been invited to this soiree?” The rabbit topples over backward, his watch bashing his delicate pink nose. Windy sneezes.“Aahhh chhhooo!” Tufts of fanny fur tickled between his spokes. “Good golly Miss Molly,” shrieks Windy the windsor chair at the far end of the table, as a wild-eyed, white rabbit with a gold watch plunked into his well-worn seat. *Refer to "The Chairs Have it" This poem can be read from the backwards too ;)