by Jared Vineyard

Created on: January 05, 2007   Last Updated: December 09, 2008

I remember it quite clearly; after nine o' clock-or nearly-maybe ten o'clock at most.
Sat I there-just me only-in the apartment, bright but lonely, chewing on some toast.
No one for me ever calling; I wondered if I were appalling. Then a bug I saw a crawling-crawling on my toast
Wretched thing, t' was black and hairy; at first sight a might bit scary to see hairy legs a crawling-crawling on my toast.

If not for chance, with one more bite; if I did not glance, I just might had extra protein with my Toast!

I was jolted and I bolted-involuntarily revolted-to the kitchen with my toast.
I headed for the stove real quick and turned the dial just as quick and listened to the click, click, click till fire flared beneath my toast.
The creature sprawling and quickly crawling, clinging and slinging to keep from falling, avoiding its disastrous roast.
At my fingertip it nipped, pinching till its pinchers ripped my fleshy finger tip and I dropped the toast.
Burning with a lustrous flare, I-just I-watched it there till the insect was a ghost.

Time of year, I can't remember, whether November or December, but this I remember clearly, t' was after nine-or nearly-maybe ten o' clock at most.
Sat I there-just me only-in the apartment, bright but lonely, looking at my
blackened toast.
The clock was tick, tick, ticking, tocking as I gently began rocking-rocking with my blackened toast.
Then I began to cry and wished it were me to die at nine o' clock or ten at most
For I truly was appalling. Who would ever come a calling? What a horrible host to turn my only guest to ghost stead of sharing my now blackened, crispy toast!

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