I set off on my journey,
My feet, they be shuffling.
It all would be fine,
Except I have nothing.
My dad kicked me out,
No time to pack.
"Get out of my house,
You useless hack!"
"I'm more of a dog person,"
Was all that I said.
Nevertheless,
He says I'm better off dead.
So through the trees,
I began my trek.
For what was I searching,
I don't know, what the heck?!
"Hello, Landon," I hear,
"We've been expecting you."
"The heck?" says I,
"My name is Bartholomew."
"Oh yes, Bartholomew.
That's what we meant.
We have a request
And money to be spent."
"I'm listening," I say,
'Cause I am a bit greedy,
Also loud, obnoxious,
Sweaty, and needy.
"We’re the souls of the lost,
The sore, the forgotten.
We seek release from this earth,
We are quite downtrodden."
"I’d like to help,
But what can I do?
I mean, I’ll do my best,
Or my name isn’t Bartholomew."
"Are you sure it’s not Landon?
Seems a better fit,
'Cause Landons are handsome
And smart, although pieces of shit.
Well, anyways,
We’re getting off track.
All we need from you
Is to bring back
A golden ladle
That's filled with none other
Than the blood from a unicorn’s
Twice divorced mother.
Also, some raw eggs,
A lamb, and a duck,
But the duck must be rubbed
With baby oil for good luck.
Don’t forget the blah
Or the blah or the blah
Blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah."
Obviously, at this point
I had tuned out the spirits.
What they said was important,
But I didn’t want to hear it.
I grew overwhelmed
With the requests they were making,
And the list was so long,
So a nap I began taking.
"Are you listening, Landon?
We also need an oven.
Why are you standing there
With your mouth wide open?"
"I’m sorry, fellas,
But you’re stressing me out,
So I think I’m gonna go.
I don’t mean to flout.
By the way, it’s Bartholomew."
And with that, I left.
The spirits were confused.
It's a good thing I’m deft.
"But, Land- shit, Bartholomew!
Without you, we’ll rot!
We’ll stay here forever,
It’s you we will haunt!"
Away I walked
Without a single care.
In my hands were two birds
flipped in the air.
Some people will say,
"The spirits, you should listen to ‘em!"
But, personally, I feel
I’d rather be drinking ‘em.
I continued my walk.
I went in a hurry,
But I fell in a hole,
from which I now write this story.
From here, I bid you adieu.
In this crater, I'll be sitting.
My only concern
Is where I'll be shitting.
The moral of the story:
Not much to be found,
'Cause here I will die
In a hole in the ground.
Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts in the comments.
