The Ooze

We each deal with the stress of living the upside down in our own ways. Me, I turn to metaphors and silly verse.

Ooze

It started as a little tiny bit of sticky ooze

The Zapft of the Tanootians,

Got it on his shoes.

He tracked it up the steps,

And through the palace door,

Leaving tiny specks of it scattered on the floor

He sat down at his favorite desk

Prepared to sign a bill

Giving extra pomples to Tanootians who were ill

But what if a Tanootian who was hale and hearty lied?

He touched his shoe,

His anger grew,

He set the bill aside.

Late that night it hitchhiked on the cleaning lady’s broom,

Down the hall, up the wall,

A bit in every room,

Sticky specks they never saw wafted in the air

They breathed them in,

They breathed them out,

They brushed them in their hair.

By morning light the ooze had filled up all the royal heads,

The palace nobles wakened on the wrong sides of their beds,

They bickered, sniped and sneegled,

In an ugly word assault

While each and every noble swore that nothing was their fault.

The Zapft ate seven pomples! And drank three cups of yeat

The Magnarch grabbed a koofle cake, and dashed out to the street.

The Vyr filled up on flazz kebabs, and zingseeds, which are rare.

The Queltan stole from all the plates, from everybody there.

The Magnarch ran to Market Square, spreading oozy spores

A stealthy web that no one saw wrapped around the stores

The merchants all grew paranoid, the customers might steal!

The shoppers spread their biggest fears, and thought that they were real.

The journals and the criers

conspired to spread the hate

A sticky web of fear and lies grew at a whirlwind rate

Close the gates, the Magnarch snarled, we have to save Tanoo

From all the non-Tanootians who might be passing through

While tucked away down by the bay, there was a little fair

Where Zoophils pranced and grownups danced and around a village square

Craftsmen crafted, yogis posed, children glued and painted

Far from the ooze, the last Tanootians lived their lives untainted.

They played and sang until a strong wind blew in from the city,

The drummers tired of drumming, the air, it tasted gritty.

Writers all had writers block, teens no longer dated,

The dancers said their feet were tired, the yogis meditated

We have to take our city back, the shortest yogi said,

But how? Replied the tallest one, standing on his head

He stretched and thought, his body taut, standing like a tree

No one had an answer, not one nor two nor three.

The children all grew restless, their games turned into fights

They drew so hard their crayons broke, they cried with all their might

They stomped their feet, they ripped their art

To shredded piles of litter

And then the very smallest girl

Opened up the glitter

“NO, NO!” cried the drummers and the yogis and the bakers.

The craftsmen and the dancers and the zarfgrass basket makers

The mothers and the fathers yelled, the singers and the poets

“Glitter will get everywhere, do not, DO NOT THROW IT!”

She held out the bucket with a mischievous grin

And before they could take it, she started to spin

Sparkling glitter latched onto the ooze they couldn’t see

It turned into a shiny swirl and set the people free

The drummers started drumming, a little slow to start,

The children shared the crayons and went back to making art

The grownups hugged each other, they all began to sing

The dancers swirled, and soon the glitter covered everything

“That’s it,” the yogis whispered, “Light can beat out hate

Glitter sticks to anything, I hope we’re not too late.”

They formed a line of everyone, from tall to itty bitty

And glittering from head to toe, they marched into the city

The drummers drummed, the pipers piped, the singers lead a song

The dancers leapt and twirled and spun, the craftsmen sang along

The children skipped, the zoophils pranced, the poets read out loud

And everywhere their line marched on, they left a sparkling cloud

The Market Square, when they got there, made them all afraid

Tanootians fought Tanootians! They halted their parade.

The shops were locked, the streets were trashed, the youngest children screamed

Flazz kebabs lay on the ground, the pomples all got creamed

The yogis and the basket makers feared they were too late

“Let’s go,” the shining children cried, “We’re stamping out this hate!”

They spread great clouds of glitter, tossing it and blowing

Till all Tanoo, near and far, was colorful and glowing

And as the sparkly cloud descended on the conflagration

The fighters stopped, they took a breath, they filled up with elation

They laughed, they blinked, they hugged, they winked, free from gripping hate

They shouted to each other “We love Tanoo, it’s great!”

They cleaned the street, they fixed the shops, they all began to sing

The Magnarch climbed the palace tower, bells began to ring

The Zapft remembered wanting extra pomples for the ill

He sat down at his desk, and with a flourish, signed the bill.