Evidence that Fran should take more care in the kitchen

A Tragedy Involving Froth

I went into the kitchen, unaware

of huge disaster waiting for me there.

The bowl was stacked with dirty crocks, of course:

the detritus of pork with apple sauce.

In haste, for I was keen to watch TV, 

I squirted in the Fairy recklessly

which meant, before too long, the froth had frothed

so frothily I knew all hope was lothed. 

Imagine if the sea were all detergent -

you’ll understand how things became so urgent.

Huge bubbles on the ceiling and the floor

and mutinously bubbling through the door

and bubbles scaling walls just like Bear Grylls

and on the windows and the windowsills.

I wished that I had not been so remiss -

I now had froth in every orifice -

so, when I sneezed – a sneeze so loud and long - 

a million bubbles added to the throng.

Attacked by bubbles, terrified, afflicted,

I waited for my death by Fairy Liquid. 


The emergency services knew Fran was under there, somewhere 



Comments

  1. Oh dear, I know it is a little tragic, but I am laughing so hard right now. Can you open a window on one side of the room and use a fan on the other side to blow the bubbles outside? You could sing while you do it, "I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air..." (old song)

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    Replies
    1. Oh yes, I know the song! Don't imagine it wasn't already running through my head as I wrote the poem!

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  2. Good one. Glad you survived.

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    Replies
    1. A near thing, Terra! Thanks for reading.

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  3. Haha. Very clever Mrs H. We've all done it but not many of us are clever enough to turn such things into a poem xx

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  4. Even by your usual high standards, superb. Hilarious. I am sharing far and wide on this pleasant Monday morning

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Ruth! I'm glad you liked it :)

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