Three Steves

Creative Forums Creative Writing
1

Three Steves

Steve one is fat and wears a Cat hat.

Steve two is black and snacks on Kit Kat.

Steve three is flat, flat on a slat.

He died whilst under Steve one and two’s bat.

A ratta tat tat, tat tat, tat…splat.

Steve one, in the sun, won’t shut up

and his sleeves are rolled up.

Steve two, in the sun, like a kitten he pounces,

does the Dew, through and through – all 42 ounces.

Steve three gathers flies, a black cloud in the breeze.

“Those aren’t flies you dipshit; they’re smaller, they’re flees.”

“Flees? Puh-lease,” says Steve of the “flees.”
“They’re no see-ems, they’ve come here to feed on the cheese;
the cheese that is oozing from Stevey Three’s knees.”

“Are you sure they’re not bees, feeding on knees?
For if they were bees, they’d be the…bees knees!”

Hee hee, hee hee, hee hee heeees.

“No sir, they’re no see-ems, they’re quick to the scene,
to feed on disease and to see and be seen –
to breed on the feces in Stevey Three’s jeans.”
Note – (Prior to his deceasing they weren’t even clean.)

Steve four is a child who lives far away,
has nothing to do with this story today.
Run away, little Steve, little sweetbun of prey,
Bad folks are afoot, and they aren’t here to play.

There are only three Steves, one, two and thray.
Three minus one makes two, so they say.

Why did they kill Steve Thray?
I don’t know.
Go ask Dr. Dre.

2

This gives me the very weirdest feeling of deja veux (sp?).

Especially this part:

and this part:

The ‘go ask Dr. Dre’ part… I dunno about that part. Just my opinion. [ scratch that, it fits in contrasting w/ Dr. Seuss … don’t mind me ]

Love this part:

snapping fingers to Dr. Seuss beat-style :smiley:

I’m not gonna say I really “get it” though.

3

Nothing to get. It’s a five-minute exercise in morbid absurdity. Sometimes I have nothing to say but still want to have something to say. Silence is like death. Here’s one I’ll write on the spot entitled five Todds.

Five Todds entered the room,
The one who yelled “Doug!” was holding the broom.
He stuck out his chest and said “what up dude.”
And the five stupid clods began cleaning the room.
(Doug was the Hellmaster of Epsilon’s Tomb)

Todd One was resentful, his blood being blue,
he hails from the Cape, has old money AND new.
What made matters worse, master Doug was a JEW.
Ewww.

Todd two was a galloping closeted dandy
who felt the hard broom in the palm of his handy,
It made him feel funny, like apricot brandy,
or the feeling you get when your ball sack is sandy.
(From beaching all day whilst staring at candy,
the candy that goes by the name of Mike Shandy.)

Todd three was a fuckface, simple and plane.
His face was of fuck, was of dimples and stains.
When his face got excited it would grow and sprout vains.
(His nose is Demetri; his mouth hole is Jane.
When Demetri and Jane have sex it’s insane.)

Todd four was all muscle and sinew and grit,
a snap of the towel, a chomp at the bit,
if ever a Todd was a canine bull pit,
one look at Todd four, you’d be sure he was it.
Steer clear of this bear of a Todd – no shit.

Todd Five was the Todd who yelled “what up dude” to Doug,
This is all that he says, it’s beginning to bug,
It’s beginning to chaffe on this ornery waif,
Who’s writing this poem in the dorm (where it’s safe.)
But in fairness I’ll say that Todd Five can say “chug,”
he said it while holding the beer bong for Doug.
And whilst smoking weed I could swear he said “nug.”

So as you can see I’m a moron of the highest order.

4

Bravo!

The hints of meaning are your best. The absurdity never goes far enough to convince that this is not all somehow deeply and even painfully grounded in solid reality. It always reeks of dangerous confession. As though you are whispering at some secret far bigger than you dare to reveal. Yet it seems as if in the clumsy attempt to be subtle you reveal far too much. It is like an unpolished reporter. Too earnest to really hide what he has witnessed.

You have a living curse of zen in that when you try to speak nonsense then it comes out trembling with profound meaning. Your silliness is portentious of depth and a magnificant capturing of reality. It is more real than real could ever be.

5

All utterances are two if not three letters away from profundity. Finding those letters takes insecurity, obsessiveness and quick neurons. I will say that Three Steves came out as a comment on not mere conformity, but the fucking redundancy of the population. How many fucking Steve’s do we need? He wasn’t that great to begin with. And what about Todd? Who’s running this shit anyway? Thanks X. I think I might be on to something. I better write Seven Evans And Eleven Kevins…the lyric tale of a dumbshit bachelor party in Las Vegas, eighteen thunks of meat from Wisconsin, Sigma Nu. If you don’t write it I will.

6

Uhm…I just have one question…

Mountain Dew comes in 42 ounces?

If so, where can I get one!??

7

Your Gematria must be off be a few degrees. :wink:

8

Thanks for noticing Sagesound. That was the whole point…the 42-ounce Mountain Dew. The absurdity of it. Everyone knows there’s no such thing. And you, you alone, went right to the crux of it. Nice work. Try 7-11.
:confused:

Gematria. Ha ha ha. My point was that minor adjustments of any raw stone can become a good sculpture. I slop something, anything, on the page, and then I edit it a little and voila, something that SEEMS deep AND rhymes.

Gematria is the dumbest thing on the planet. Any jew who spouts about gematria is a fool. Rabbi’s do it to create drama, and simpletons eat it up. Don’t get me started. It is utterly meaningless. Then again, finding meaning in nonsense is PRECISELY what this exchange is about. You did it again X.