A House in the Forest Where No House Should Be

There is a house

In the forest

Where no house

Should be

There’s something about it

That tells you

That where it is

There should be nothing

The same way

Some people stand

In front of you

And you can see

That you shouldn’t

Be seeing anything

And yet

There something is

One day as a child

I was walking down the street

And a man stepped in front of me

And while I knew

He couldn’t hurt me

I also knew

That this man shouldn’t be

He stood there

And I stood there

And then my mother caught up to me

And when she did

She asked the man his name

And he told her ‘Pilson’

But Pilson is not a name

And my mother knew this

So she grabbed my hand

And we walked all the way home

Without ever looking back

Because there shouldn’t be

Anything

To see there

Later, as a teenager

I went searching

For something

Like the man I went that day

I wanted to see something

I wasn’t meant to see

Or meet a person

I wasn’t meant to meet

But it’s so hard to know

If something you’re doing

Is something

That should never be done

It’s not as simple

As doing something random

Or spontaneous

It’s about understanding

What could happen

And doing something that can’t

But will

That’s how I found

The house in the forest

Where no house should be

It was easy to see

That absence was required

And the house had refused

The house had no doors

And no windows

And one could argue

That all that it was lacking

Could create the case

That it wasn’t a house at all

But four walls

A ceiling

And--I suppose--a floor

But when I put my hands

On the house

I felt that it was negating me

Demanding that I move away

And show some respect

To a place that isn’t

Meant to be a place

Not wanting to be rude

I walked away

And didn’t look back

Because you don’t look at houses

Where houses

Are not supposed to be

That afternoon we got word

That far away in another country

A long lost relative

Had died in a terrible accident

And we would need to settle their affairs

As best we could

When we arrived in the foreign country

We found all manner of things

That didn’t belong

But that might have been

Because we didn’t belong

And nothing we touched

Wanted to acknowledge us

We got things in order

Then flew back home

And on the way there

I looked down

At the sky

And saw clouds

Where clouds shouldn’t be

And sunlight

Where there shouldn’t be light

And a land below

That looked like

It should be water

I either belonged in a world

That didn’t belong

Or I was the thing

That didn’t belong

And which one it was

I couldn’t know

Knowing was nothing

That should be

There was nothing

I needed

To know

The Sheep Discuss Conspiracy Theories

      (A field.)

SAM:  You really think the farmer's wife just died?

JOE:  She was sick.

SAM:  That woman was healthy as a horse.

JOE:  Actually Mick hasn't been feeling too hot lately.

SAM:  I'm speaking figuratively.

JOE:  If she didn't die, what happened to her?

SAM:  The Man with the Cans took her.

JOE:  The one who comes and picks up the milk?

SAM:  He's not really here to pick up milk. That's all a ruse.

JOE:  I've definitely seen him pick up milk.

SAM:  Joe, you know what I'm going to say.

JOE:  I'm not being a sheep, Sam.

SAM:  You are, Joe. You are being--

JOE:  I've seen the man take the milk. I saw it with my own eyes.

SAM:  That's only what you think you saw. These people are masters at making you think you've seen things that you actually haven't seen.

JOE:  Why would the Man with the Cans kidnap the farmer's wife?

SAM:  Did you see that new cat the farmer's son got?

JOE:  Yeah.

SAM:  That's the wife.

JOE:  You think the farmer's wife is the cat?

SAM:  They transformed her into a cat.

JOE:  Who did?

SAM:  The Society of Men with Cans.

JOE:  Why would they do that?

SAM:  Because cats love milk.

JOE:  But why turn wives into cats?

SAM:  What do you mean?

JOE:  Why not, like, cousins or--

SAM:  Joe, farmer's wives are known to be some of the most docile people on earth. They're exactly the kind of people you would want to kidnap and transform into felines!

JOE:  Wouldn't the farmer try to stop them?

SAM:  The farmer is in on it!

JOE:  He is?

SAM:  They ALL are!

JOE:  Are we in on it?

SAM:  No!

JOE:  Hmmm...I don't know if I believe you.

SAM:  NOW, YOU'RE TALKING, JOE!

JOE:  Talking about what?

SAM:  About who to trust.

JOE:  Who should I trust?

SAM:  No one! That's the point.

JOE:  Can I trust you?

SAM:  Yes.

JOE:  Are you sure?

SAM:  Yes.

JOE:  Do you trust me?

SAM:  Not at all.

JOE:  Sam!

SAM:  Joe, just a second ago, you were playing dumb, and now you're suddenly talking like a real thinking sheep.

JOE:  Would you trust me if I told you I believed your Man with the Cans theory?

SAM:  But someone who's allied with the Man with the Can would WANT me to think they believed there was something going on there.

JOE:  What are they going to do when they run out of farmer's wives?

SAM:  That's when you really need to worry. Because then they'll turn on the farmers, and then the farmer's kids, and then the horses, and then the dogs, and then the cats.

JOE:  The cats?

SAM:  Yes.

JOE:  But they're turning people into cats.

SAM:  Right, so then they're going to need to turn the cats that were already cats into...other kinds of cats.

JOE:  Why does the Man with the Can want a world full of cats just because cats like milk?  People like milk too. I remember seeing the farmer's wife pouring milk on top of those oats you pour out of a box every morning. It didn't look appealing to me, but she seemed to enjoy it.

SAM:  It's because the Man with the Can isn't really a Man with a Can.

JOE:  Then what is he?

SAM:  He's five cats wearing a Man with a Can uniform.

JOE:  San.

SAM:  Yeah?

JOE:  That's the first reasonable thing you've said all day.

SAM:  You believe me?

JOE:  Oh yeah. Cats sitting on each other's little shoulders, wearing a white shirt and pants, and carrying around milk while they change people into fellow cats? It's all lining up now.

SAM:  Welcome to the Resistance, Joe.

JOE:  Wow. It's all adding up.

SAM:  Just wait until I tell you about what's going on with the aliens in the hen house.

JOE:  You mean the chickens?

SAM:  Chickens? Ha. That's what they want you to think.

     End of Play

I Got the Juice

I found someone

Using my portal

And I was cross

I was cross

According to my creator

Who said that when an android’s routine

Is disturbed

It’s common

For the android

To want to rip the head off

Whoever it was

That brought about the disruption

I did not wish

To rip off any heads

But I wanted what I am told is justice

Because I was wronged

That led to me putting in a request

At the front desk

That the android who used my portal

Submit a formal apology to me

For the slight

Then I waited

A day went by, then four

And after a year

I decided that my irritation

Had turned into a grudge

And I needed satisfaction

I went right up to that android

And I listed the time and date

Of its infraction

Its position was that

The only available portal

Was too far

And it wanted something

More convenient

And all that I could have forgiven

But then it asserted

That I was not owed an apology

Because portals are not assigned

At that moment

I did want to rip off heads

But I cooled down my mainframe

And explained to the android

Something I sure it was already aware of

That while portals are not, in fact, assigned

Each android has a portal

That it prefers

And there is an unspoken arrangement

Amongst all the androids at the lab

That each of us uses the same portal

And our plugs get adjusted

To the same sockets

I had the hardest time

Getting my plugs

Into a foreign socket

And I informed the android

That the extra time wasted

And the minor damage

Down to my plugs

Was enough of an offense to me

That not only was an apology necessary

But it was the least the android could do

This seemed to make

The other android angry

And it informed me

That I needed to modulate my tone

If I was going to continue

To voice things to it

I chose, in that moment,

To be even more voluminous

And so I raised my volume

And one thing led to another

And the next thing I know

My head is ripped off

By the other android

Who was a much stronger model

Than I was

Something I didn’t know

At the time

When I was having my head reattached

I regretted my earlier anger

Not because I thought

I was entitled to it

But because I think

I did too much with it

And my anger beget anger

The other android got angry

And my creator was angry

For having to pay

To have my head reattached

I have half a mind

To leave you headless

But of course

He didn’t mean it

I’m one of his favorite androids

And after my skirmish

He assigned portals

To all the androids

And I got mine exclusively

To myself

The android who was cross with me

Got even more cross

But there was nothing

It could do about it

So you see

In some way

I did get justice

I guess you could say

That in the end

I came out

Ahead

Oliver Rates the Orphanage

After visiting this orphanage

I can safely say

It is the worst orphanage

I have ever been raised in

The rags?

Filthy

The gruel?

Subpar

The heat?

Non-existent

We were constantly yelled at

As we essentially ran the place

I don’t know about you

But when I’m being brought up

In a home for boys

Whose parents are dead

I don’t expect to have to do

All the mopping myself

Yes, the singing was lovely

And I learned how to harmonize

By the time I was four

But that’s not a skill you can use

When you graduate from the orphanage

Only to be thrown out on the street

To become a full-on beggar

This is absolutely no

Upward mobility

And the education program there

Amounts to little more than

Mr. Bumble saying--

‘See if you can read

The label on this bottle of ale, you scrapper,

I’m trying to watch me diet’

Would it be too much to ask

To have them paint a few walls?

Tear up the floor?

Put some paprika in the gruel?

At least heat it up

It’s freezing

And we only get one portion a day!

And the rats!

They’re everywhere!

Yes, they sing as well

But they canNOT harmonize

And boy are they pitchy

I have escaped no less

Than fourteen times

And it seems like

The only thing

These people are good at

Is catching runaway orphans

Because they always find me

You’d think they would be

Thrilled to have one less mouth to feed

Their unseasoned porridge to

When I was nine

I made myself a tiny hat

To dress up my personal decor a bit

And they confiscated it

And used it as an ale cozy!

Any bit of joy I managed to scrounge up

Was quickly turned against me

And I found myself depressed

For most of my endless childhood

I realize that an orphanage is--

By its very nature

--Not meant to be a happy place

But certainly something can be done

To make it a little less morbid?

If you are thinking of dying

And leaving your children

To be raised in an orphanage

I encourage you not to drop off your child

At the Mudfog Workhouse

Most workhouses get around

The rules for being a good orphanage

By claiming that a workhouse is not an orphanage

Even though the place is RIDDLED

With ORPHANS

If you die and leave children behind

Please be sure to leave a will

Wherein you instruct

That they be sent to live

With a distant uncle

With a hidden garden on his property

Or a boxcar in his backyard

Or some charming mystery they can solve

That will help them get over

The terrible loss they’ve suffered

Save up some coins

They can receive

When they become of age

And perhaps set up a betrothal for them

Since dating as a grown-up orphan

Can be a very trying situation

I give the Mudfog Workhouse

One star

And I would give it less

If this website allowed for it

We won’t even discuss

The state of the restrooms

Trust me

You don’t want

To know

To Put Out A Star

To put out a star

One must reach up

To touch the star

And turn it

Three times

Clockwise

And then once

Counter clockwise

Once the star is out

One can pull it down

And hang it

From the nearest ceiling

Twist four times clockwise

And six times counterclockwise

And the star will light up

Whatever room it’s in

We’ve heard about stars

That were too bright

To light certain rooms

So if your room is very small

You might want to consider

Using something

Other than a star

To light it up

You could use a lightbulb, of course

But that seems so ordinary
And we know you are not the type of child

That likes ordinary things

Why not use a shooting star

Which is not nearly as bright

As a regular up-in-the-sky star?

Shooting stars are much harder to catch

But they give off a much kinder light
As a trapped star

Is known to use its anger

To remove all darkness

From where it’s being kept

Now, you might think

That no darkness at all

Sounds lovely

But a little darkness

Is like a bitterness

In your lemonade

Without it

It’s hardly lemonade

And without darkness

You may not know

It’s time for bed

As the shadows

Come into your room

To hide in all the corners

And listen to the story

You’re told each night

Before you fall to sleep

Shooting stars can be caught

By riding an elevator

Up to the three hundredth

And seventy-third floor

Of any building

While carrying a butterfly net

That is large enough

To hold a baby rhinoceros

Hold up the net

And the stars should

Practically catch themselves

Shooting directly into the net

And allowing you

To take home the perfect little light

That is also very friendly to bits of darkness

If you are afraid of heights

Or butterfly nets

You may not have an easy time

Catching a shooting star

But you could catch a starfish

Which really can’t light anything up

But is a lovely pet to have

In a little dish by your bed

You won’t be able

To see the starfish

In the dish

Without something

To light your room

But you’ll know it’s there

And that will give you comfort

And comfort will help you sleep

If all of this sounds like too much trouble

You could leave all the stars where they are

And sleep with your curtains thrown wide

So that the light of the stars

In their rightful place in the sky

Will shine down on you

While the darkness sleeps

In all its nooks and crannies

To put out a star

Is a noble adventure

To undertake

But sometimes the days are long

And there is homework

And chores

And you lack the time

To go for a space journey

Simply to get

A little extra light

Or in some cases

Far too much

On those days

It’s important to remember

That some things

Are best left

Where they are

So that you can enjoy them

From where you are

Happy with everything

Being exactly

Where it’s supposed

To be