Wednesday, January 31, 2007

A Lesson on Voice

Twas' the day of the Super Bowl, and all the taverns in town;
had specials on beer, and the juke box turned down.
The stools were all taken, every last one;
while everyone watched as the pre-show began.
The beer was flowing by the bartender with flair;
"Hey pass me another, I'll be over there."
As I stood by my stool, not able to sit;
the kickoff was coming on T.V. in a bit;
When all of the sudden, the screen it went blank;
and the crowd grew quite quiet, my heart it just sank.
I jumped from my stool, ran to the TV;
adjusted the cable, damn we just had to see.
The silence was sickening, the crowd was so still;
and behind the bar, the bartender looked ill.
A flick of a switch, and a turn of a knob,
the screen remained blank, and I choked back a sob.
"Hey Joe! Bob, Tom and Keith,
Albert, John, Eric and Heath!
"Hurry, into my van, we'll go to the mall;
"Slow down man- ya almost hit that wall!"
As the tires spun out, and let gravel fly;
we really must hurry, times flying by.
So off to the mall, we sped real fast,
a blue and white car, saw us go past.
He pulled out behind us, turned on his lights,
the sirens blarred loudly, but we put up a fight.
I pushed on the gas, and sped up to eighty;
then looked in the mirror to see if just maybe;
the officer would not keep following me.
Just at that moment, I saw my worst fear;
He was still behind me, along with his peers.
Now most of the force, was chasing me.
I just had to keep going, for the game we must see.
Up side streets I sped, with them chasing me still;
I could not slow down, for this game I would kill.
I sped down the highway, and slowed when I saw,
the exit was close, the one to the mall.
The officers kept coming, not giving up chase;
Until they could catch me, and this may be the case.
Just then an old lady, cut in front of me;
"Shit!" screamed my friends, "We cant miss the team."
I swerved out around her, and started to slow,
the mall was quite close, not far to go.
I pulled in the lot, and into a spot,
Started to get out, but thought I'd get shot.
For there right before me, the force they all stood;
their weapons around me and I knew that they would.
I closed my eyes tight, waited until
the shots would begin, and I'd get my fill.
John stepped out, to the cops he pleaded,
"Don't shoot my friend, a TV is needed!"
"The one at the tavern, Ya see it just broke,
We really must hurry,before the game partook."
We all ran inside, the officers too.
They helped clear the way, to let us all through.
We pulled out our wallets and counted out cash;
we were a bit short, from completing our task.
I looked at the guys, and let out a sigh,
for we had not enough money, for a TV to buy.
Just then, an old lady stepped up , her hand holding a ten.
"Buy your damn TV and get out of here men!"
I reached my hand out, taking the ten,
paid for the TV and we left with huge grins.
We jumped into the van, the officers close by,
sped off to the tavern, a half hour had gone by.
back at the bar, the crowd swarmed around,
faces lit up for a TV we had found.
Racing into the tavern, remote in my hand,
I ran to the corner where they set up the band.
popped open the box, pulled out the machine,
plugged in the power, "How'd ya work this damn thing?"
"Hook up the cable." somebody yelled.
"Then push the "ON" button!" the crowd it swelled.
With the thing plugged in, and the cable hooked up,
I turned the thing on, and the volume way up.
the screen it turned blue, and the crowd again quiet,
if this did not work, they might start a riot.
Everyone here, except for the cops,
had been drinking, some non-stop.
The tension was thick, we all quietly waited,
then the game came on, the crowd was elated.
"Pass me a beer." I yelled to the bar.
Then sat on my stool thanking the stars.
The crowd was quiet, the game ready to begin,
the teams on the field beginning to sing.
As the coin was flipped we let out a sigh,
we had not missed the kick off, no thanks to our plight.
A police man came over, stood beside me and said,
"Son here is your ticket, excessive speed, must be paid."
I looked down at the paper, I held in my hand,
Reckless driving it read, 50 over he'd scanned.
I did see the game, but my luck had run out,
for when I got home, my wife, she did shout.

I wrote this a very long time ago...the lesson was on voice...the object was to fool the class. I took on a male persona and used the "voice" from Night Before Christmas...

Comments on "A Lesson on Voice"

 

Blogger Stan said ... (9:19 AM) : 

Very good Shana, why is it that my children can write so poetic and I can't even write. Must be because of the educatinal system between the 50-60's compared to the 70-80's. Very cute.

 

Blogger real eyez said ... (8:51 AM) : 

good job shana

 

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