The haunting

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Well. I am a ghost.
Don't be afraid, I'm nice
Writing to complain about
These boyfriends of my wife

I was young when one fine moonlit night
I happily went to bed
The next morning a delightful one, though
I unexpectedly woke up dead

I heard my wife screech out a cry
And stumble to the phone
"Struck with grief, poor thing," I thought
At being left alone

They took me over to the morgue
And kept me cold on ice
But I wouldn't stay there, why, no Sir!
Headed back to my poor wife

And what do I see? This wife of mine
With me scarcely one day dead
Of the umpteen boyfirends she'd amassed
Had the top one in her bed

Now I am a mild guy, but I really think
There ought to be a law
The marriage oath seriously needs
An amendment of this flaw

"Till death do us 'part", and thereafter
"For some three hundred sixty days"
"At the minimum I shall still remain"
"Absolutely straight in my ways"
 
The bride and bridegroom, both must loop
Over this before they've kissed
Until the priest or equivalent
Is convinced they get the gist

"Now don't be selfish", you might say
"After all you're one day gone"
"This poor woman has faced her life"
"For twenty hours, alone"

That's true, but somehow now it seems
Though dead, I still do mind
Everyone knows I was nice when alive, but
As a ghost I'm the jealous kind

When alive I knew my wife had some
Of those losers on her rolls
They had shocks of hair and true six-packs
I thought they looked like trolls

I didn't mind, she was really nice
And I hardly lived in my house
I was married to my job as well
Had no time left for my spouse

Well, I might ask you at this point
What a self-respecting ghost must
Clearly do, when confronted with
Such tremendous breach of trust

Well I did what every decent ghost
Would do under duress
Haunted this Hollywood Romeo
Made him nearly die of stress

My widow's house was ideal for
A haunting from the start
On the oldest richest side of town
On a wide street's loneliest part

Stately houses lined four blocks
Most occupied, well kept
This one cost me ten million
Nearly plunged me into debt

A grey silouhette against the sky
Windows painted white
Slats of wood on either side
Streaming lights inside

My mansion stood, expensive, tall
Four stories and then some
Two acres of either side
Grounds manicured, handsome

"The millionaire's widow", the news declared
"Retains his estate and wealth"
"He apparently died of natural causes"
"While in excellent health"

It was a mystery, but I didn't dwell
On this very insidious verbiage
I had to fix this Son of a Gun
This malicious Piece of Garbage

His clothes were strung across the room
His pants were on the chair
I waited till my wife turned away
Then ruffled his beautiful hair

A startled, wild look on his face
His pretty eyes grew wide
"Hey there, that wasn't cool you know"
"To jump me from the side"

My wife denied it, puzzled still
He shrugged, then this crafty cartoon
Went into the bath and slipped in
Eyes closed, enjoying his fortune

Humming, with his eyes still shut
This Master of The Grope
Began to tap the tub's vicinity
Not looking to find my soap

Not twenty one hours dead, and this wily
Treacherous artful snake
Was in my bed, and in my bath
It was more than I could take

Not only that, he was about to rub
His skin on my favorite sud
Never! I turned the shower on
Hoping the bath would flood

I hadn't planned this but was glad
As we got into a fight
I'd open up the shower full blast
Everytime he shut it tight

"A plumbing fault" I think he thought
"She needs to get a plumber"
If you've known Stupid, then I tell you
This bloke was even dumber

He went whistling to my living room
Grabbed my wife along
As they flopped onto my sofa, I decided
To musically augment his song

I turned on the music loudly then
But my wife picked up the remote
And turned it down a few notches
To a soft, romantic note

"You need to call a plumber, Darling"
"And get an electrician or two"
"All wiring through your house needs replaced"
"And your music player too"

"Darling?' I turned the volume high
Switched the romantic crow
To "Old McDonald had a farm"
"E-I-E-I-O"

"Take that for romance, you intermeddler"
Wished I could find a more apt word
I'd been a decent man, as long as I lived
My vocabulary strictly Harvard

"Yes, I see what you mean, my Love"
Said my wife, and I was just incensed!
"My LOVE?" My expensive sound equipment
I turned as high up as it went

"And on his farm he had a cow"
"E-yeah-E-yeah-O"
The window smashed, his wine glass blown
They moo'd here and there, you know

A brainwave besieged this crumbling bread
He plunged to the outlet, there
Pulled the music player's wire from it
Stopped the moo moo everywhere

It was hot, but a cool breeze blew in through 
The hole in the window pane
It was getting late, it was dinnertime
They used my table, my plates, insane!

This bloke, his shirtless loftiness
Sat ultra straight in my seat
While my wife dressed in unusual skimp
Served his loftiness bread and meat

As she turned away I turned his plate
A full circle around
As he watched, wide eyed, I spilled the wine
On his right side to the ground

Too proud to question himself now
In the presence of my lovely wife
He strove to calmly eat his bread
Sweating profusely through his strife

"Are you sick, my LOVE?" she asked and left
"There's some lemonade on that tray"
"No no no, stay here", he quickly said
"It's a little too warm today"

"We have ceiling fans up here, Darling"
"I'll turn it on, that's all"
She walked to the switch, while he watched me adjust
The painting on the wall

She poured fresh wine, into his glass
While I sprinkled salt on his meat
When she wasn't looking I sprinkled more
Until he really couldn't eat

Then I spilled his wine on his plate again
Until this shifty dirty creep
Excused himself on some pretext
And hauled himself to sleep   

"I'll join you in a bit" she chirped
"There are fans in all our rooms"
He went to the bedroom, it was dark
Sinister shadows loomed

I flicked the light on, turned it off
Then he didn't want electric light
Walked to window, pushed the curtains apart
The moonlight streamed in bright

The curtain cords were on his left
In a bundle by the stand
I shifted them under the fan
And as I did, I brushed his hand

He stumbled to the bed and pulled
The comforter up his head
I turned the ceiling fan on, slow
Then, Comrades, at High-Red

He jumped up then, to turn it down
Swore like a garbage can
And in the meantime I stealthily slung 
The cords up on the fan

He lay sweating on the bed, looked up
Saw the cords, jumped up distraught
And just to get the message through
I demonstrated tying the knot

He screamed a piercing scream, and streaked
Right out the bedroom door
My wife then found him packing things
In his suitcase on the floor

She protested, but he said some things
Much gobbledygook and rants
As he wore his pants, I cunningly pushed
Up one leg of his pants

Though packed up, leaving, I didn't slack
I steadily upped the pace
Haunted his shoes, his hat, his wallet
Then haunted his suitcase

He lammed it out in a great hurry
Shirt buttons misaligned
One trouser leg pushed up to his calf
Took the first cab he could find

My wife was cool, that's why I loved her
She was always such a gem
She just shrugged and dialed the next one in line
There were fifty two of them

The next one moved in right next week
After my funeral was done
I didn't notice what was up, until then
This was an under-handed one

This slimeball, in my living days
Was my lawyer, Howard S. Crook
"Surreptitious" was his middle name
Did everything by the book

I'd have never, ever, thought or dreamed
Not in my living daylight
That this handsome, charming Crook Jr.
Was making out with my wife

Well, I won't bother to recount
The haunting I unleashed
Hitherto on this man whereby
His pink complexion bleached

In one day and in a day thereafter
He was constipated, sick
Whereupon he packed up expeditiously
Extradited himself quick

My wife, she kept her pace unfazed
She was pretty skilled at her trick
Never alone, she steadily brought
In a new scumbag each week

As time passed, I got really skilled 
At the subtle art of the haunt
My lovely window, her beautiful house
Were the talk of all Vermont

Over twelve whole months, as they sneaked in
Each one quite handsome, sleek
I'd haunt them clean out of their mind
Drive them far away in a week

Well. I was tired after all those haunts
Three-sixty-five days past
I lay exhausted on my bed
Went to sleep at last

The next morning I awoke, quite alive
Realized I'd had a dream
Told my wife about it all
And to anyone it may seem

That she would take it in her stride
And laugh outright at the joke
But she was quiet, and when I left the room
I am sure called up some bloke

"He's on to us", she surely said
I could hear some soggy words
I smiled inside as I left for the day
While she locked up her cupboards

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24 Mar 2018
11:25 AM