As I sat reading
one of the bards tales
the laughter within me
could not be quelled
he wrote with authority
he wrote with some wit
his words seemed to match
with the joint I just lit

As I continued
to peruse the tale
A voice from the kitchen
slightly derailed
my narrowing focus
had suddenly gone south
it seemed that I now
had cotton in my mouth

I reached for the glass
beside on the stand
intending to quench
the thirst I now had
but not taking an eye
off the page before
I clumsily knocked
the drink to the floor

I looked around
if any had seen
where was the cat
when I really need
a lackey , a scapegoat
on which to lay blame
The voice from the kitchen
called out my name

"What was that noise?"
inquired the voice
looking around
I had but one choice
Take off my socks
and sopp up the mess
down the hallway
came her footsteps

Quickly I scrubbed
and scrubbed some more
the cranberry juice
had stained the floor
suddenly there
before me appeared
the fuzzy red slippers
which I so feared

"You've stained the carpet!"
spat my angry wife
I quivered and shrank
hopefully out of sight
"I've told you before
"your not allowed."
"to sit and read stories
with liquid around."

With my head bowed
I went for the door
containing the machine
I'd used before
patiently she watched
as I cleaned the spot
removing the stain
which I had wrought