A humane tourist destination

There are rumors circulating that this started as a your mamma joke. There is a chance that the rumors might not be false.


An eating disorder was what she had,

It didn’t make her distressed or mad.

She would eat and eat, and combined with

A rare gene defect, thought to be a myth,

She would grow and grow, never to stop,

Until she was the town’s permanent backdrop.

The tourism board started thinking,

Par for the course, while heavily drinking.

She was declared a tourist destination,

The tourists ferried all the way from the bus station

To marvel at the world’s newly largest mammal.

Some even offered to buy her a pet camel.

She now has a steady stream of visitors and food,

The former of which only rarely rude.

All in all, things are okay,

Life goes on, as they say.


X-men powers

What would I do if I had x-men powers?

I wouldn’t hesitate or think for hours.

Cyclops’ laser eyes are handy for cooking,

No need for a stove, I’d just do some looking

And the onions would be sautéed to perfection,

Later to be eaten by objects of my affection.

Wolverine’s claws could open all the letters,

Persuasion +10 when chased by debtors.

Also, good for chopping up an onion

Chopping them cleanly, like trees with Paul Bunyan.

Being telepathic, like Professor X,

Could stop an international annex.

Also, I’d know if onions are ok to cook

For my guests without asking, just a quick look.

In summary I’d say, the powers would be pretty cool

All of them help polish that culinary jewel.

Hungry tummy

My stomach is eating me up inside.

It was so very hungry, it rumbled and cried.

Now it’s nibbling on my ribs

Gnaws, chomps and nibs.

I could ask it to stop,

But I think it would be a flop.

I know how I am when I am starving

No listening to reason, just thinking of carving

Me a big piece of the nearest pie,

So I’ll not interfere, it won’t do to try.

Maybe my ribs will be just enough

So my belly won’t eat away my bones and stuff,

And, if it does, then let’s hope

That non-vital organs are in its scope.

Licking the devil

If hell was real and I had to go,

What would I do… Oh yes, I know.

I would find the boss, the red head honcho,

The big horned one with the human-skin poncho.

I’d say ‘Hiya Beelzebubba, how’s it hanging?

That canine necklace of yours is pretty banging!’

This might make him a tiny bit perturbed,

So that I could execute my plan, completely uncurbed.

I would sprint close and lick his red arm,

Taste the strawberry goodness, from Satan’s own farm.

Mmm, the devil’s strawberry-flavored skin,

I wouldn’t care about the trouble I’d be in.

What’cha mean how I know? Use your brain!

He wouldn’t be red if he was filled with grain.

Cheese origins

“This cheese is weird.” said my friend to me.

“They’re not naturally cubes you see.

The natural form is oval or round,

That’s how, in cheese forests, they are found.”

I inhale sharply and deliver tea

Into my nostrils and in front of me.

“What in the where now did you say?

I’ll ask you to repeat that if I may.”

“Cheese in the forests, in, you know, trees.

That’s where they grow, pollinated by bees.

Teeny tiny slices at first, but then,

A whole cheese wheel and that is when

You go and pick it so you have your cheese,

Before it falls down in an unusual breeze.”

She excuses herself as she is done eating.

Walks back to work or some sort of meeting.

My mouth so open it could house a fist,

I can only drool because of this sudden twist.

Oolong tea

I chipped my tooth while sipping my tea,

Seems quite unlikely? Also to me.

I checked the package, it didn’t take long.

It said on the side “Freshest oolong”.

The dictionary told me what oolong meant

It means, dark dragon, so that’s the content.

I peered into my cup, now a bit cooler,

And stared into a tiny, suspicious ocular.

A tiny tee-covered black dragon staring back,

Apparently the one that made my tooth crack.

It jumps out, and quickly flies away,

All it left behind, a tooth-ache for the day.

Speck, the Vulcan

Spock is the Vulcan from Star Trek.

He has a brother whose name is Speck.

He is a replicator in human form,

With pointy ears per the Vulcan norm.

The food comes out from a nostril, the right

The drinks from the left, because it’s a bit tight.

If you think it’s icky, well you know, he’s a Vulcan,

Not a dirty human like me or Macaulay Culkin.

You calibrate your wishes by pulling on the ears.

No fuss, no trouble, no clanking of gears.

Shoot it forcefully into your container,

Of course you bring one, that’s a no-brainer.

I don’t know if Star Trek has Tupperware,

But if not, then something else that’s square.

Spock likes his brother and that’s no wonder,

With him every party will fail to go under.

Just be sure to calibrate it well,

One yank too much and and your soda might smell.