April Fools'
For a week, at least, leading up to April Fools' Day,
I tried out as many as a dozen pranks and fibs,
But my brain fell for none of them,
Which left me in a rather untenable place,
Since I'm the kind of guy, if you know what I mean,
Who likes to get a person's goat, with a good stretcher,
The more mendacious the better;
Even a little maliciousness and/or vandalism, for good measure,
Never hurts, is how I see it, especially among friends.
After all, how can you tell who your friends really are
If you don't stick it to them, real good,
With a red-hot poker up the A-hole or the one-eyed trouser worm,
To see if they can put your bullshit behind them,
Forgive and forget that you caught them with their pants down —
You know, see if they turn the other cheek, so to speak,
Recite, from Animal House, the fraternity-pledge initiation mantra
"Thank you, sir! May I have another?,"
Show they're capable of putting up with you, no matter the pain?
But despite all the trial-balloon lies and stunts I floated,
To sucker my mind into believing that April 1
Was the beginning of the End Times, Apocalypse, Armageddon,
It wouldn't bite, take the bait — hook, line, or stinker.
But once that Wednesday arrived, I hit upon a new scheme,
Took a radical tack, to convince my psyche it was doomsday:
I wouldn't let my body get out of its sweaty bedsheets,
Pretended, instead, that rigor mortis had escaped a nightmare
And hidden in my bone marrow, the DNA of every cell.
For perhaps three hours, I lay low, not twitching a muscle,
Waiting to see how my mind would respond to my prank,
Especially since it was such a stickler for getting to work, on time.
But when, at 9:30, I shouted "April Fools'!" triumphantly
And tried to rouse my brain from its somnolence, it played dead.
That was two weeks ago. It still hasn't stirred.
04/01/09 - (1)
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