Contract killer

“Let me take a drag beforehand to look cooler.”


I don’t work for cheap, that’s true.

But I get the job done, and done well too.

There’s an idea and it’d be good if it dies?

Arrange the payment and close your eyes.

How do I work? You don’t want to know

Just describe the target and cough up the dough.

It’s one of yours? Well that’s a first.

You want to live your passion, lifelong nursed,

Of traveling the world and painting with oil

To avoid the rat race and mind-numbing toil?

Alright, I see, this won’t take long.

Just kick back and relax, we can’t go wrong.

I will now come closer and whisper some words

They will kill the idea of being free as birds.

Listen closely and listen well, sonny:

“With this idea you can’t make money.”

Now it’s dead, put the payment in the pot

As agreed, 15 gummy bears, fresh and hot.

Have a nice life, son, and do come back

If you ever fall off the too-well-beaten track.


Eating dough

After you make the dough for a cake,

It’s time to clean the instruments for hygiene’s sake.

“I can lick them, don’t want to waste.

Don’t you worry, I like this taste.”

One cake ovened, second on the way,

Soon time to clean. “I can if I may.

I can keep on licking till my tongue falls off,

You just take care of the sweetness in the trough.

I can’t wait for the cake, I admit,

But as long as I’m waiting, I’ll just lick it.”

A three-fourth hour later the cake is done,

“Do I want a bite? I think I’ll have… none.

I guess I licked more than I could handle,

And I can’t eat any cake. What a scandal!”

Lazy diabetes

I wanted sweets but was feeling lazy.

Go to the store? I’m not crazy.

When it’s this cold outdoor’s not an option,

Unless you’re an arctic fox waiting for adoption.

Hopeless, in the kitchen, rummaging around,

I found cocoa powder, fine and brown,

One bag of flour with only one hole,

A block of margarine with a really fatty soul.

Cane sugar strolling around on the shelf,

And enough water to bathe one elf.

All these ingredients went into the bowl,

So did my fist carrying its sole goal:

Stir and knead until it’s not sticky.

Might take a while or might be a quickie.

The dough will, after laboring a while,

Clean my hand, spotless with style.

That was my cue that it was done,

Like me, down the lazy diabetes M1.

Baking pizza

Baking pizza in the oven. Can’t it be done?

Not quite as much as the eating, the baking was still fun.

Kneading dough with my bare fists,

Checking herby ingredient lists,

If I check what it looks like it’s yellow as the sun.

That’s the cheesy crust it has, moustache licking good!

Tomato sauce and salty things, like a pizza should!

Onions and garlic. Onions and garlic!

Onions in onions, garlic on garlic!

If I had a fireproof mouth, chomp down on it I would.

It’s done! It’s done! It’s been a half hour!

Its red and yellow is prettier than any flower.

Bye bye now, my dear friend.

I’ll salivate all the way till the end.

I’ll be so greased I will need a soapy shower!


Oh my goodness, grandma’s baking!

The anticipation! Can’t take it! Shaking!

Can I please please please, just taste the dough?

Just a tiny bit, a crumb for a mouse? No?

Ok, ok, I know when to stop.

I’ll wait and wait till my head goes pop.

That’s just the cover, I have a plan,

When she leaves I’ll taste that flan.

I could call my friend to come over,

She’ll open the door (with the flap for rover),

As soon as she’s gone, fingers in the bowl,

I can taste that sugar stuff deep in my soul!

I did as I planned and approached my trophy,

Quiet and soft, with footsteps loafy,

I took the scraper to catch lots of dough,

Plunged it in and stirred it so!

Brought it onto my awaiting tongue,

Taste buds waiting for of what had been sung.

Into my mouth! Oh why, oh why?

The dark, thick dough for buns of rye!

Disillusionment for one so young!

Betrayed by my best friend, my best tongue!

I thought it was some chocolate pastry,

Not rye, salt and yeast and not at all tast-rey.

I can never trust anything, not anymore!

Grandma’s betrayal shook me to the core!