I was just a small amoeba living on a lime,
and though Judy disinfects her fruit every single time,
I fear that the bartender doesn’t bother to
so that is how the tale occurred that I am telling you.
She squeezed her lime above the ice, then dropped it in the drink.
The Coca Cola fizzed up and the ice began to clink.
As she took her first big swallow, I lost hold of the lime
and slid down a soft pink chute into another clime.
I’d heard of other journeys and knew how this might end,
but I decided I’d enjoy every curve and bend.
I wound up in a reservoir where I gave in to sleeping,
but woke up to a million of me jumping, kicking, leaping.
It wasn’t half so pleasant as it had been before,
so I commenced to swim around, looking for the door.
Unfortunately, though I found it, it seemed to be blocked.
The wind was brisk, the waters churned, but the way out was locked.
When I heard the one who had consumed me groan and cry and cuss,
I rued the fate to which that Cuba Libre had doomed us!
For as distressed as she must be with headache and each cramp,
I was suffering equally from jostling and the damp.
For two days she lived on Electrolit, in bed and with no food.
And I held on for my dear life, listening to my brood
tell of what we could expect, flushed to a watery hell
down in the earth with all our kin—this legend they knew well.
Two days I lived like this, just holding on for my dear life,
listening to her pleas as spasms cut her like a knife—
too ill to go for help and unable to even sit.
I wondered how much worse this grisly tale was going to get.
Then suddenly, this morning, I felt the waters swirl.
I felt myself slip-sliding right out of the girl
into a clear container where I could see the world
from prison I’d once more escaped, or rather, I’d been hurled!
I felt the jostling and the engine of the moving car
which set up small vibrations in my little jar.
Yet still my progeny and I enjoyed the five mile ride.
It was so much better now that we were not inside
that dark and windswept place where we’d resided for two days.
Though I’ll admit none of our legends accounted for this phase.
No other amoebian Aesop had written any story
that took a turning such as this. Former endings had been gory!
I heard the car door open, footsteps and a creaking door.
Other footsteps, blinding light, and I was freed once more!
Spread onto a sheet of glass, surveyed by a big eye,
I breathed a sigh of pure relief. I’m such a lucky guy.
While they weren’t looking, I slipped off and landed on a shelf
where ever since I’ve been observing others like myself
who have escaped amoeba hell at least for a small time.
While I’m in amoeba heaven, and my dears? It is sublime!!!
So clean, well-lit and active. Just like a picture show.
I sit here so languidly and just go with the flow,
calling out encouragement to visitors like myself.
And now and then, others come and join me on my shelf.
The girl who works here likes to put her sandwich very near,
where it serves as a good cushion for those of my kind, I fear.
The moral? Take care what winds up inside you, please, my friends;
for in spite of all my warnings, this story never ends.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Once Upon a Time”—tell us about something that happened to you in real life last week — but write it in the style of a fairy tale.
Sorry, friends, this one is another groaner!!!!
Methinks you’re now officially The Bawdy Bard of Lake Chapala. Well done! (And get well soon.)
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Methinks the lady doth protest too much. You have probed new levels of literary honesty while delving the bowels of your soul. It is an ill wind that blows no good and I think your latest efforts have surpassed any that have gone before.
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That is the best work I have read in ages. Simply brilliant, Judy!
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Wow. Thanks, Terri. A friend who knows how miserable I’ve been challenged me to use this as my topic. I had reservations, but I accept all challenges. You know what our mothers would say about this, don’t you? Thanks for reading and commenting. Judy
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How can misery find comfort in laughter. Having worked, once upon a time, in the food and service industry, I know all too well how his cousins are left behind. My surprise is how seldom they travel. Still creeps me out, I won’t use a lemon or lime in public either.
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In Mexico, they believe that both Coca Cola and Limes kill amoebas, so they drink Coke and put lime on everything. How ironic that the conveyance here, then, was Coke and lime and a little rum thrown in for good measure!!! Thanks so much for responding, Charly. Judy
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I had to read this twice to see who the first person was :p Very nice poem and written in an interesting perspective!
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i always enjoy mining misfortune for humor 🙂 plus now i might give the view of a parasite some thought, cheers for that! and hope you’re feeling better now. – i.m.
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Thanks, MacGyver. I’m feeling much better now, thanks to Flagyl…Judy
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Your brain works in mysterious ways. And overtime. And I love how it works.
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Thanks, Anna. Obviously, yours must work in much the same way. Judy
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amoebas lie in wait… where limes and lemons congregate…before you know it down the hatch and once again behold a rematch…caution to those who check those slides…and keep their sandwiches on the sides…we like to eat and drink for sure… but what may follow is difficult to endure.. thanks for the other point of view
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Steff is housesitting for me while I’m in the States for 6 weeks…and she knows the end of this tale. Yes, the amoebas reestablished a stronghold the day before I was to leave, so we’ve delayed our departure for one day while I fortify my defenses with Flagyl.
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But now you know how to disinfect, right?
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Hope you are feeling much better soon and on your way in comfort. Safe travels.
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Sounds awful Judy. So it’s something you can never be totally rid of.?
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Well, if it grows chronic you can’t, but generally antibiotics clear it up. You can keep being reinfected however, by bad water or poor hygiene in food preparation, not washing your hands before eating, etc. Kind of like colds and the flu. It reappears in one’s life now and then.
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You and I are not having a fun time are we? I’ve been sick with I don’t know what since Friday. Going to the doctor at two. I hope you’re feeling better!
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I am but now my blogsite is ill. Talking to tech help at WordPress now. Hope you feel better soon.
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