That Sort Of Day

It was a slow sort of day

And the air felt like smog

And gloominess fell like an autumn time fog

And the people all smiled

Fake grins and said sweetly

“Please pass the marmalade, darling Miss Wheetley”

It was that sort of day

When you’re all on your own

And people keep calling you up on the phone

And you just want to scream

And shout things at their face

But instead you reply with unusual grace

That you’re really too busy to talk to them now

And were just going out to converse with the cow.

It was that sort of day when everything’s wrong,

When the sun is too hot, and the day is too long…

It was that sort of day

When they came to my home

Sneaking about like a small sort of gnome

Their devilish eyes alight with a fire

Said their presence could mean something terribly dire

But it was their grins that led me to think

That it wasn’t my mother who clogged up the sink

But at the time it seemed just so totally silly

That I just dismissed it as fantasy, really

But then little things

Not the usual kind

Began to start happening and play with my mind

The dishes not washed

Clothing all over

Weird little voices playing Red Rover

Then the bathroom all flooded

The doors wouldn’t close

And hair sprouted out all over my toes

Then the fridge was all empty

My face wouldn’t shave

My garden plants wilted

My road wouldn’t pave

My good china shattered

My hair wouldn’t brush

And I just couldn’t think

My brain turned to mush!

Then machines started beeping

And the lights started flashing

And from all sorts of places came bashing and crashing

My phone started ringing

My house was a mess

They must just enjoy wreaking havoc, I guess.

Then all of a sudden,

The daylight was gone

 And all of the creatures appeared on my lawn

And they spun in a circle and then…they were gone.

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