Silly Little Stories
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
With hands that never shook and a smile that never faltered,
I packed my bags, ignored all instincts, and set my eyes both eastward.
A new beginning awaited me; there was a dream I had to follow.
And I chased that dream, with blind eyes to the little town of Sleepy Hollow.
“The Hollow isn’t safe!” My father howled at my deaf ears,
“The Hollow is ungodly!” mother wailed, awash with tears.
“Haven’t you heard the stories of the man without a head?”
“Haven’t you heard that life in the hollow revolves around the dead?”
When I arrived I was alarmed by the odd ways of the town,
And appalled by whispers of an equestrian wraith that rides when the sun goes down .
I was curious so I wandered, and I broke the town’s one rule,
I went out in the woods at night to falsify this ghoul.
Ignorantly, I commenced, and I did not listen to them,
I carried no worries and I failed to be wary, oh what a fool I am.
Now tucked behind a tree I watch my breath cloud in the cold,
As I count the wits I’ve left behind and recall the tales once told.
I know that he is coming for me, I’m aware I’ve reached my end,
So please tell future skeptics that the phantom is not pretend.
The Overworked Washer
Every day I wash your clothes with no complaints at all,
But this is it! I’ve had enough! I will no longer heed to your beck and call!
You fill me up and press a button, and that’s the only job for you,
Yet you loath the load and get upset because you say it’s too much to do!
I work my wires until I’m ragged and never get to rest,
I wash until I’m dizzy, and you never seem impressed.
So now I’m done! I’m moving on! You’ll have to live without me!
I’m leaving you, and your clothes too… right after this load of laundry.
Casey's Boy
There were pictures on the dashboard of the man he used to be, a passion shown that he passed on to his boy in the backseat.
Casey was his name, Mighty Casey to be clear,
and those three awful strikes are what ended his career.
Twenty years of failure for a moment in the light,
but now his baseball cap and glove fit his son just right.
As they pulled into the field's paved lot his son let out a sigh,
He said, " You know I'm no good at sports, but Dad, I'll give it a try."
His old man smiled and pulled the key from within its place,
His faded grey eyes twinkled and a smile played his face.
" Now son just listen to me," he said, "the lesson here is short,"
"You don't have to play a sport good to be a good sport."
So the boy trudged to the dugout, a bat clasped in his hands,
As his father wished him luck and continued to the stands.
Nine boys warmed the bench, not one over thirteen,
a coach and weeks of practice were the makings of the team.
A streak of losses trailed them like footprints in wet sand,
But those boys were determined, and the pressure they could stand.
A young girl sang the anthem, as the crowd removed their hats.
And when the umpire called, " PLAY BALL! " Casey's boy was first to bat.
His father's confidence seemed to skip a generation
because his pale and sweaty face showed his obvious frustration.
His fingers trembled greatly as they curled around the grip,
and as he waited at the plate he felt his arms go limp.
The pitcher's glare was evil but he smiled from ear to ear,
for his throwing arm was wicked and he could see the batting boy's fear.
The ball sailed through the air and slapped the catcher's glove,
The umpire called out " STRIKE! " and the scoreboard changed above.
As the catcher threw it back our boy let out a breath.
He knew that he was ready to follow in his father's path.
The pitcher wound it up, and let that fast ball fly, and when the umpire called out, " STRIKE! "again,
good old Casey almost cried.
One last chance was all he had, one last chance to prove his worth,
but just before the ball was thrown, a clap of thunder shook the earth.
Rain began to pound upon the green and well groomed field.
And our boy's unlucky fate seemed to have been sadly sealed.
The players were called to leave their bats and stand beneath the bleachers,
as rain soaked through their caps and shoes and seeped under their t-shirts.
Their faces showed their disappointment along with their relief,
but Casey stood out in the rain overwhelmed by disbelief.
He had struck out, even hit home runs but never in his years
had he been forced to stop a game due to Mother Nature's tears.
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