Posted on

Sonnet #2: When in this smelly takeout stand…

With lashings of apologies to William Shakespeare, here is my sonnet number two:

When, in this smelly takeout stand with flies,

I all alone will eat the tofu plate

And forgo beef heaven and the soggy fries

And look upon my belt and all I ate,

Wishing me like to one with fish to cope,

Feasting like him, on tuna maki, pressed,

Desiring this ham sandwich that I could ope’,

With what is most unhealthy, not possess’d;

Yet in these food fairs that I have been prizing,

Hap’ly I think on cheese, the cracker’s mate,

Like to the oozing lava that’s arising

From bubbling platters from the oven’s gate;

For thy deep-dish pizza such health brings

That then I have to loose my sweatpants strings.

Posted on

Sonnet #1: Shall I compare thee…

It has occurred to me that I don’t write enough poetry. To rectify this woeful situation, I have decided to compose a series of sonnets. I’ll stop at the first fatality.

Shall I compare thee to a stilton cheese?

Thou art more fragrant and more likely to melt:

Rough wax does bind the squishy lumps of grease,

And rounds of curds do fill the bloated belt:

Sometime too hot the oven glows,

And often is the pale complexion burned;

And other cheeses melt into wet floes,

By broilers or the bubbly pastas churned,

But thy eternal cheddars are not fatty

Nor lose the lovely waxiness thou ownest;

Nor shall Ronald use you on a patty

When in the line-up at McD’s thou groanest.

So long as cows do milk or goats can baa,

So long lives this, and this makes you go “AAAAA!”

Posted on

Feeling the Burn

'Orbital Burn' by K A BedfordIt’s here. The friendly neighbourhood postie just dropped off the much-anticipated hardcover copy of Adrian’s novel. In the words of the immortal Homer, “whoo hoo!”. And now, I read.

Posted on

Monday story pitch

Once again, it’s time to pitch the dreaded “bad blurb”. I hope others will follow me in this grand entirely pointless tradition. Famous movie producers should note that the rights to my bad blurbs sell for ONE MILLION DOLLARS! (each)

Corky Corkster McCorcoran was accidentally born as a slug, although in all other respects, he seems completely human. School is difficult for Corky–his classmates tease him and, in sports, players often mistake him for the ball in rugby matches.

One day, Corky is stepped on by the famous television chef, Emeril Laflasse, who agrees to nurse Corky back to health and train him to say “BAM!”. Soon Laflasse and Corky become fast friends and Corky becomes a master chef, with an impressive range of dishes.

Then, during the taping of Corky’s first television appearance, a flying saucer lands on the studio’s roof: it’s Corky’s real parents, who are accompanied by several warriors from Slimeron Four of the Slimerian Star Empire. As the Slimerians ooze through the studio’s hallways, sliming everyone, Corky whips up a batch of his famous salt-crust salmon and offers it to the warriors to stop their muderous rampage. After the warriors eat the salmon and shrivel into raisin-like lumps, he explains to his Slimerian parents that he’s really happier here on Earth and would they please stop killing everyone. His parents agree to depart, but leave directions back to Slimeron Four, should Corky change his mind.

Everyone (still alive) in the studio celebrates! Corky has saved Earth from invasion, and has created a delicious salmon-and-raisin dish in the process! BAM!