You Can’t Make This Up

You Can’t Make This Up

Your sore back would relish my whirlpool magic So bring your towel and suit, to stay away would be oh so tragic. Brenda’s good intentions tempted me to action The heaven upon Rice Lake would defer any retraction. The scene was set, the ambience divine And then she added, “Would you also like a glass of wine?” I de robed and took the steps with the gentlest of ease Soft lights, tantalising aromas, mesmerising candles, frothing bubbles with so much to please. I sank slowly until my body was encased and my mind ecstatic My feet explored the satin like floor until it happened …. ‘twas quite emphatic. The water was quickly exiting like the stroke of a whip I beckoned Brenda, who rushed right in apologising for her husbands’ omission To earlier repair the plug for an easy transition. “I’ll be right back.” And she reappeared with a huge plastic container filled with sand Am I at a concert? Is this the band? I moved aside as she lowered it to rest a top the plug And now the ambience was feeling not so snug. Alas it bobbed up ‘twas clearly not a good solution Am I receiving some kind of divine retribution? “Keep your foot firm I have another idea” She left again as I began to fear. What could she possible bring to restore my calm Would it be something that could soothe like balm? You could not imagine in your wildest of dreams The additional contents that came to lay along the whirlpools seams. Are you alright with 3 heavy black cast iron frying pans in your bath?”

I looked aghast and began to laugh. “Relax enjoy I’ll go make supper” The frying pans worked but could I slow my racing heart to just a flutter? Sliding back under bubbles to rest my head on a cushion of air My mind observing what lay below me just right there! Beginning now to absorb the rising candle flames dancing high Amidst the branches of ivy leaves that caught my eye. Casting shadows aloft and all around Subservient noise, for there was no sound. Mesmerised, entranced I cannot deny But wait …. What …. Am I about fry? For a second or two in sheer disbelief I am unable to function Has my life reached the final and eternal junction? “Brenda!! “ I screamed in guttural panic She rushes in perhaps thinking this girls manic. The ivy has caught fire, consuming leaves, branches, tiles climbing higher and higher “Oh my gosh what do we do?” She searches for rescue, but from who? The flames lap and play and wildly devour To render ruin if this is our final hour. In my mind I hear please don’t use the bath water For I know that the chemicals will exacerbate the slaughter. Too late, she reaches in, cups her hands and without caution scoops and tosses the bath water up the wall of fire The straights we are in have now become much more dire. I stand up clothed and dripping with bubbles “Move aside,” she yells forcefully desiring to end our troubles. She grabbed a cast iron frying pan much to my amaze Raised above her head and smashing down atop each candle to choke the blaze. The smell of charred foliage, the sight of blackened walls Grey smoke exiting to consume the halls. Broken glass strewn everywhere Still clothed in bubbles I’m all but bare.

She opens a window, then passes me a towel We stare at each other shaken but alive and then with escaping pent up emotions, we just howl. Once the clean up is done We can admit that we’ve actually won. “I don’t suppose …. You’d like to continue your bath?” she looked down in shame How could I possible now relax enjoy and convince my mind to re frame? Was this an event to cause regret? That ill fated day when yours truly got wet!