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The Pedicure Virgin

I don't know what came over me that day - an instant of weakness after years of resistance, I suppose.

My beaming spouse leads me, a dog on a short leash, into the forbidden citadel, the sanctum sanctorum of feminine fastidiousness, the dreaded nail salon.

As we pass through the portal, we enter another dimension, one not of Man. 

One of Woman.

Overwhelmed by estrogen, like Superman in the presence of Kryptonite,  my strength saps. 

The harpies in the salon immediately sense fresh meat, hailing my wife like Caesar in a Roman triumph, gleeful in the knowledge of the barbaric sacrifice to follow. Lightheaded, my eyes dart around, a trapped beast seeking escape.

I'm screwed.

The sacrificial altar is prepared. The torture device is like a dentist's chair, but with a tub for the feet, presumably where they will drain out my blood. Resigned to my fate, I mount the gallows.

Glancing around, it seems that all the employees are Southeast Asians. Mostly young. Reputedly, they own this territory, like Indians in convenience stores or Italian greengrocers. My personal tormentor is the proprietor, a slim pretty Vietnamese woman perhaps in her mid 50's, with cold eyes and a professional smile.

I immediately sense  that I am dealing with She Who Must Be Obeyed. I am commanded in that bossy Asian way to put my feet in the tub, as she turns on the water. Apparently, like some feminine droit du seigneur, Dragon Lady reserves the right to draw first blood from pedicure virgins. My primae noctis, so to speak.

As she sits below me and leans forward to grab my feet, I get a good look at her  well-formed cleavage. Maybe this won't be so bad,after all...

As my feet soak, I close my eyes and sink into a Felliniesque fantasy, surrounded by Asian houris garbed in short white Grecian gowns, catering to my manly whims.

I'm getting a semi...

Dragon Lady brings me back to reality, placing my left foot on her toweled workspace. 

There's another guy here... 
and that SOB is getting a manicure from one of my girlfriends!

An older lady enters the shop. She has an experienced and well-traveled look. Obviously a repeat offender, she immediately begins apologizing to Dragon Lady for her tardiness, meanwhile sizing me up like a slab of man-meat. Dragon Lady gives her a proper scolding, then the horny old biddy tweaks my big toe and flashes me a knowing smile. I wonder if she is packing heat in that big purse...

Suddenly, I become William Holden in Sunset Boulevard. As I make a break for freedom, I am plugged in the back by the scorned Gloria Swanson lookalike.

Then, a cold look from Dragon Lady and my spouse re-establishes territory and Gloria backs off.

Dragon Lady looks pleased as she draws out what appear to be farrier's tools for shoeing horses, presumably to work on my virgin toenails, which I admit are heading toward Fu Manchu territory. A pair of evil-looking wire cutters makes short work of my talons, then she pulls out a chisel and begins removing layers of yellowed nail until they are smooth and white. 

Nice. I can take this. 

Then she removes the cuticles and pushes back the skin.

Holy crap! I think she just popped my cherry! I see blood on my big toenail. I take it like a man. A bead of sweat runs down my brow.

She finishes the flaying job, puts the foot back into the soothing bath and begins carving up the other one.

"And women pay for this?", I think.

"You like massage?", she asks.

"Massage?" I glance at my spouse nervously, wondering if she intuits the direction of my thoughts. 

She points to the control panel on the chair. 


"Why, yes. Yes I would!", I reply.

Anything to take my mind off my pending amputation.

"All the way?"

I suppress my licentious thoughts.

"Warp seven, Mr. Sulu."


"To infinity, and beyond!"

She got that one, and turns on the machine. Robocop immediately digs deeply into my neck  and spine with his titanium-steel fingers, plowing my vertebral column like a John Deere cultivator. My central nervous system releases a  flood of endorphins. The cocktail of pain and pleasure is a masochist's wet dream.

The surgery going on downstairs dissolves into the background...

Dragon Lady puts the second foot back in the tub and removes the first. She pulls out a big cheese grater and goes to work on the bottom of my foot. I don't have thick calluses, but she produces a pretty respectable pile of Parmigiano. Makes short shrift on foot two. My smooth feet now look like a baby's. 

Not too bad, not too bad. 

My spouse shoots me the old Told You So look and smiles.

Dragon Lady now pulls out the pumice for the final polish. As she goes to work on my foot, nerve endings now exposed after many years return me to infancy.

It tickles! Oh Momma, does it tickle! 

I'm giggling like a young girl. I can't stop, and I really don't want to either. The entire salon joins in my giggle fest. 

Dragon Lady doesn't let up for a second. She is giggling too, and for the first time I see the young, innocent Vietnamese girl buried deep inside. 

Then I see the napalm and burnt village.

And all the rest of it...

I see and she sees. We each have seen... too much.

She smiles sadly. As do I.

My next appointment is in a month

I'll be there.

September 11, 2014

Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2014

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Dedication to the P.D and Green Slam

Check the slam between P.D. and Green
Bunch of Girls trying to act all mean.
One question to Green your rap sounds like you wiped it on your sleeve
While smoking dope and combing out your $1.50 e bay weave.
“A wham, bam, thank you ma'am”
These raps are from a Buster Keaton silent move made into slam.

P.D., P.D. what’ that really stand for P. drip or puppy dog?
You yelp and call it a bark with your nose buried in S__T like a wart hog.
You both fart in a bottle and call it a storm
It just stink, its runny and luke warm

You thrive on other’s giving you the “Big up” and that’s all
Come to me and you’ll get the biggy small

I dedicate this slam to you from me
I am the main man, top dog, big cheese, king rhino, jungle VIP.

(Enjoyed both your Slams Big up)


Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet | Year Posted 2010

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By Degrees

September I gazed outside with unease
When I heard it will fall in the sixties.
Then dad said we’ll soon be losing degrees;
To me these things sounded like tragedies.

Why do we have say bye to degrees?
I never knew they were our enemies.
Tell me the truth ‘cause I hate when you tease.
I’m begging you, dad, I need to know please?

I dreamed degrees were no bigger than fleas
That could saddle up on the backs of bees,
And buzz along in rows of twos and threes
Then vanish amongst the tallest of trees.
Dad replied, you’ll learn it all by degrees,
So I gave up on him and asked Louise
To see if she knew much about degrees.
My sister said they’re in geometry.

She drew a large L, and said this big cheese
Is a right angle; called ninety degrees.
Angles take their shape by connecting these
Points together, denoted with ABC’s.

Right angles were proved by Isosceles,
And two of them are complimentary.
Whatever this had to do with degrees
Was another of life’s big mysteries.

I pictured angles of many degrees
Popping out from books of geometry.
As gulls that appear as a flock of vees
Flying above all of the seven seas.

I then asked my mom, can you help me please
Concerning my questions about degrees?
Sure, hon, she said, see those sugar cookies
They baked at three hundred fifty degrees.

Oh my goodness mom, you say that all these
Are as hot as the sun without a breeze?
Of course not, silly, there only cookies;
They’re made to raise money for charities.

I thought if the sun was made of cookies?
Of course I’d prefer that better than peas.
But anyways, would the universe freeze?
Whether out of cookies, or peas, or cheese?

Since I was still puzzled about degrees
I ran back upstairs, with difficulties.
Knowing my brother was sick with disease,
I crawled in his room on both hands and knees.

Dad was there too, but his face showed worries
Tom’s temp reached over one hundred degrees.
So I touched his forehead, and thought, oh jeez
It would melt bowls of M&M candies.

I imagined if Tom had to sneeze,
Would the juice burn through the land and seas?
And make it all the way to the Chinese;
Would it infect all their towns and cities?
To Dad’s home office I went ill at ease
And when dad came in I asked him if he’s
Going to lower Tom’s hundred degrees?
Dad said don’t worry, he has expertise.

He showed me one of his MD degrees
That you can earn at Universities.
He said if Tom rests and catches some zees
He’ll soon be totally free of disease.

I thought instead of Universities
I’d join the circus and learn the trapeze,
Or perhaps be a clown so that I can squeeze
Into a small car that runs without keys.

I think on that day I learned by degrees
That they can cook, and measure disease.
Fit on the wall, are in geometry
Yet I’m perplexed to the umpteenth degree. 

Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2013

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the souper star

Where can I go.
Following me like the black plague,
Droppings here and there for show.
----let them lie where they fall
after all
who is the big cheese
who is the termite at the top of the hill,
rambling longer, saying less, 
worthless krill
having to search out a dying whale 
simply to have meaning to it’s existence.
Excess baggage intended solely to take up space. 
Tainting the atmosphere with worthless mindless waste.
Floating around with an atmosphere of
“too close for comfort.”  
Sad isn’t it. 
All the lies.
All the make believe
All the deception of fellow 
members who take the truth for granted.  
Like the willow, which can only bend so far,
drivel faithfully ranted,
comes to a bitter end

Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2014

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Speak--Easy----- 1920's

I may be all wet, but I sure ain't no bluenose!
And, while it's none of my beeswax,
Let's have a bull session-lesson !
Take a gander around, and tell the guy with the cheaters
I'll give him an ear-full, if he'll just hang around

There's a gatecrasher here..., I heard, on the level
He's  zozzled on hooch, a big lollygagger!
He staggered in blotto, with a ciggy on his lips
Sipping on bootleg, and lookin' for whoopee!
He's the fall guy,  (I've heard), for a weird, double cross

Here comes the hoofer, the one with the gams
That vamp is a pushover, a gun- moll, man chaser
A real hotsy-totsy!, she dresses real spiffy
Her toy is a shiv,  she's the Jane, Real McCoy,
makes a sap out of guys, who carry a torch
Bumps them off, on their own front porch !

And that's the "Big Cheese", who runs the speakeasy
He thinks he's high hat, but is full of baloney
He gives all the dames, the real "heebie-jeebies"
Just a poor drug-store cowboy... filled with nothin' but hooey

Hard-boiled. they come,   gold-diggers and hoods
I've been beating my gums, and I'm dying of thirst
This is the berries, been the real bees knees!
Oh, it has been swell, while chewing the fat!

But, facts are the facts, on the up and up

Well, bye, Buttercup,......the jig is up
I'm serious Sam, in a serious jam
The truth of the matter is, that I'm on the lam

You don't know for nothin', stay out of a pickle !...
Remember my friend, don't take wooden nickels !!

For Deb's Contest: Talk The Talk, Walk The Walk   (1920's Slang)

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

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Thanks for the memory

In the ancient city of York 
My friends and I have been for a walk
Studying a little Viking history 
Instead of returning to the car
We decided to visit a bar 
That's when a nice American couple ran into me .

Howdy y'all
In his best southern drawl 
Do ya know where we might get somethin nice to eat
There is a restaurant in the bar 
and its really not that far 
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding would be a treat.

They were in the dinner queue  
When my mate got out his snooker cue
After dinner might our American friend have a game
Of course you can play a frame or two 
We'll be at the table waiting for you
but don't you think we ought to know your names . 

Of course you should he said 
This little lady is Andrea , I am Ed
I'll see ya soon an we'll have a beer
I knew when Andrea shook her head 
He might be going shopping instead
but he whispered '' i'll be staying here''

Well he must have talked her round 
Or a compromise had been found 
Because soon he was telling his tall tales
Ya see American women , He insisted 
Love to have their arms twisted
but if ya show em who is master it never fails.

He began to titter 
Calling him a quitter 
When my mate said he was going to call his wife on the phone 
Just show her who is boss 
She aint never going to get cross
She will know she has to leave you guys alone.

It was then Andrea came in 
Her face as angry as sin 
Ed had promised to meet her half an hour ago
C'mon Ed we teased 
Show us you're the big cheese 
Teach us what us soft British guys out to know.

I have never seen such cowardice in all my life
He was scared stiff of his angry wife 
C'mon Ed pull the other one 
You are no better than us Brits 
You know when to call it quits
but thanks for the memory. It was fun.

Copyright © DARREN WATSON | Year Posted 2014

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I was flabbergasted when given the chance
To join the renowned Roscoe's Oddity Of Circus
With no actual talent to speak of
I was pretty much dead in the water worthless

But Roscoe in all of his wisdom
Put me in charge of the Bubble machine
Low and behold people
Turns out...Bubbles is "ME"

I started out with simple patterns
Blowing one treasure at a time
As things progressed rather quickly
I soon had Bubbles dancing in Mumba lines

There wasn't a Bubble imagined
In which I could not achieve
But like I said at the very start
Turns out...Bubbles is "ME"

I even perfected what I like to call
The "Fantabulious Bubbles De jour"
In the Bubble circles in which I blow
I've become quite the Bubble Lore

My Bubble forte soon became
Floating Bubbles of Super Stars
I'm not one to "POP" Bubble names
Suffice it to say you know who they are

These days you don't have to go to the Circus
If you'd like my talent to see
I'm the one who does those Bubbles with the tiny words
In the Sunday comics you read

Why I've even been to the U.N.
Where the "Big Cheese" was highly pleased
The way I blew name tags and place mats
For all the visiting Dignitaries

But my favorite pastime after all these years
Even with all the fortune and fame I've found
Is relaxing with my Circus buddies
And blowing Bubbles of "Bubbles the Clown"

Just think when I joined the Circus
I had no talent in which to show
Who knew all it was that I needed
Was one good bubble to blow

Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2016

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Good Morning Doctor Death

Waking up five in the morning,
and looking the dawn's sun rise,
to start the day with a yawn and strech.
Smell the morning dew,
as you go and retrive the morning newspaper,
filled with tablots of lives more intresting than yours.

You wave to your hand to your neighbor,
who you don't like, still you say, "hi"
It's just the nature of the human being.
You turn and go inside,
you feel some pain on your leftside.
All those milkshakes and hamburgers
caught up to you.
What do you do?
Not much, you can do now,
You fall to the ground, clenching your chest;
you call out for help, but no one comes.
You see your neightbor, but he doesn't mind.
See he hated you as well, like you hated him,
and he is glad to see you fall to your
knees and beg for Mercy.

Oh no! here he comes,
Doctor Death, no not Jack Kavorkian,
No! the big cheese,
the Creature that prays on black souls,
just like yours.
Doctor Death come on down! Come and clam your prize!
Good morning Doctor Death! I'm ready,
Are you?

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

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Know Your Onions

Talk the Talk and Walk the Walk

Know Your Onions

Hey there Big Cheese
I think you are the bee’s knees

Not a bluenose or a flat tire,
But, ooh hardboiled & too Oliver Twist to resist

Let us skip the youths' rub & head far removed from the petting pantry

Share a jorum of skee at the local speakeasy
Now we are on the trolley!

Let us slowly ankle to the joint
I’m a copasetic-bearcat
Watch my gams, catch my point?

Oh hepcat I’ll get your handcuff or
This darb Sheba’s bank is closed for someone else

Butt me, you spiffy sheik
Cuz I’m stuck on you bimbo

Know your onions & manacle this
Choice bit of calico,
You know you can’t resist

Then and then only will you wield me to your struggle buggy and
We’ll be jake!
The cat's pajamas!!

                                                                             Sunshine Williams
                                                                                 1920’s Slang

Copyright © jill spagnola | Year Posted 2015

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Plausible Denial

T'is politics where man excels, 
for it protects the lies they tell. 
Of pomp and ceremony he employs, 
voters manipulated like children's toys.

Wars are started, a game of chess 
and religion does so happily bless.
Sons and daughters sent far to protect, 
with allowances made for only the select.

Exceptions made for those with class, 
or for those with plenty of political cash. 
Favors, tickets, given to good friends, 
on their value, everyone depends. 

Bill of Rights, one must pay the price, 
to the big cheese controlling the mice.
A democratic society is but a veil, 
to hide the reality of its jail. 

Charisma is much more highly rated,
agendas becoming under-stated. 
We buy the package with a smile, 
when truths revealed, there's plausible denial.

Promises, promises, we hope they will keep 
and so we wait like docile sheep. 
Fed from the bail full of manure,
a steady diet for the intellectually poor. 

We don't debate the issues, just the grin, 
suave and debonair will usually win. 
Enjoying wine, women and so much song, 
when will we figure out, where we went wrong. 

Ahhh, not until headlines splash across a screen,
then we lament, the end of the dream. 
Politics and religion, strange bedfellows do make,
for power corrupts, man's soul it will take.

In the end we'll say, we were just fooled, 
t'was common sense that was over-ruled.
Blinded where we, by the good and the brave, 
too late to complain, when we lie in our grave.  

Copyright © Bernadette Langer | Year Posted 2007

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Such a cliche

I'll drink to that, three sheets in the wind, the Booze cruise                        Drinking like a fish, kicking the bucket a fine kettle of fish,                       
beyond the pale. A fish out of water. When it rains, it pours, on a dark             and stormy night, raining cats and dogs. A force to be reckoned with,                                    the perfect storm, so weather the storm and get your feet wet.                          Every dog has its day, fighting like cats and dogs.                                    
Look what the cat drug in, the hair of the dog that bit you,                         
Just pulling your leg. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,        
ignorance is bliss. No pain, no gain, a chip off the old block,                     
banging your head, against a brick wall.                                                          
A loose cannon, armed to the teeth, the kiss of death.                                                                                                     Biting the bullet, caught in the crossfire, losing your head,                                                                                      Can't hold a candle to, burning the candle at both ends,                                                                                                             at the crack of dawn, caught with his pants down, the naked truth,                    
a checkered past. Out of the frying pan into the fire.                                    Playing with fire, a burning question, that inflames me!                                   This is for the birds, two in the bush, killing two birds with one stone                                                                                       Fair weather friend’s, fly the coop and birds of a feather flock together                                                       Looking like the cat, that ate the canary, the bird's eye view.                                                                                                  Cat got your tongue, the big cheese is a better mousetrap                                      
Don't look a gift horse, in the mouth and the horse you rode in on          
Beating a dead horse, I got to see a man about a horse!                        
Living hand to mouth, biting the hand that feeds you,                                    
A knuckle sandwich, that’s a mouthful. He is full of himself

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2018

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A walnut pate encoute
Haddock with rarebit
Cheddar & onion tart
Cream cheese fresh baked scones
A lemon cheesecake
Dairy cream
Please !

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009

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Should've Could've


In and out of each town
I just love how all these beats sound
Feet to the ground
Even when I'm feeling overwhelmed, and completly beatdown
Regardless of if I want to sleep now
Or eat chow
I'll still put you six feet deep clowns
Taking you and the so called big cheese out
Before the chance of a rebound
Near and far from driveways throwing away a 'free couch'

We all got our own stories to tell
What the hell
I should've, could've made 2017 XXL 
Oh well
I'm not going to dwell
Or hide in any shell
Just going to try to propel
And excel
Lightyears beyond what their trying to sell
Not quite parallel
Or in the same realm

Near and far from any ferns
Turns, curves , berms and curbs
I always yearn to learn
Always realizing their is a point of no return
I still burn some herb
And do my best to earn
While keeping my word
Through whatever occurred
Even if it ended up being a blur

What I recently heard
Was absurd
And almost left me disturbed
Because it sounded like a turd
And did not deserve
To be ever called superb

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

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From Cheddar Cheese to Brie

I'm just a lowly cheddar cheese ball, come roll away with me
past gastronomical delights, to taste and smell and see
varieties of cheeses that stretch on across the miles
that vie for the attention of hungry cheese-o-philes!

Some are common kinds of chumps like Jack and Mozzarella
used in down home sandwich shops, or finely sliced on pizza tops.
Then there's the Italian clan for the sophisticated pallet
like Romana and Gargonzola that rank high on the cheese ballot.

European cheeses are delectable, such as Havarti and Guyere
ranging from mild to smoky rich, they have that nutty flare.
On top of the cheesy food chain are most certainly the French
who've made an art of nuance that puffs out their cheesy chests
with Blue de Basse and Camembert, they are among the best.

But the BIG cheese, queen of cheeses, is the creamy, heavenly Brie
mixed with raspberries and chocolate, it's as delightful as can be
eaten with or d'oeuvres or paired with the finest wine
no other cheese is more superb, delicious or sublime. 

And yet, some folks still prefer a lowly, cheddar cheese ball
and for them, I truly am the greatest cheese of all!

Written on 11/12/2018

Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2018

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Your jester darling

Jokes on me, guess you're the roaster and i'm to chicken to say goodbye cause I waste my time wishing you would hold me closer ,the shows been over but im still seated, my vision blurred , Is the curtain really closed? ,In the mist I search through my mind to try to find the truths separated from the lie,what's real and whats hidden, intermixed and woven, a stir of confusion, a mind warped ,a puppet to the puppeteer her brains been stirred, she cant see clear,a place in his heart? please! there's no room for you there, little crumbs get dropped and I follow the trail going through the maze getting dizzy in the haze hoping to reach the big cheese,what am I trying to achieve?The unattainable heart, the broken Soul,a sick need like desire why is it he that fuels my fire when it is also he who leave my heart and soul, empty ,yearning and tired,the lust ,his touch ,his smell, his presence in your mind he always dwells, he disregards you and still you feel like hes your armor?!? it's debatable that hes not quite malicious but yet he still harms you,disarmed you are against his charms,his smile ,his voice defeats you every time,in your mind a shadow of him cackles you are mine,a prisoner to passion all while forgetting this kinda pain is not in fashion ,a glutton for punishment I ingest all the excrement, a slave to the pain don't even try to break out of my chains,sounding erratic the feeling is tragic ,his flesh pressed against mine ,the skin craving sin, ringmaster of this disaster he controls the elements like a wizard, under his spell heaven an hell ,if u looked in my eyes could you tell? I'm under your spell can you not tell, I wish I was held in your mind like you are in mine ,I wish in your heart I had a place to reside, but I'm just a jester going on a ride ,riding my unicycle around in a circle ,a sideshow for you ,the one u lie with but will never hold dear, like a master I'm your cat ,you wave the feather taunting me but I can never grasp it ,like a baby bird inside of the shell there's a slight crack but I cant break free, born deformed unable to fly,you caught me a few times as I started to cry, shrieking inside my mind the words blast between my skull and vibrate my brain as my blood vessels pulsate in a excruciating manner , my mind screams he'll never be mine!

Copyright © Jessica Bowie | Year Posted 2018