‘Beers bitch’, Charlie babbled— slurry speech a game of scrabble. Charlie was a bitch to the beer, drinking Mabble’s Apple Schnapple in every pre-drink debacle. ‘Berrz Bit-ch’ Charlie babbled, kissing the winking witch holding a crab apple. Mabble: His wife in his train wrecked life. At two to the gallon, he glugs like a fish. ‘Bers Birch’ Charlie babbled under the tables Chug-chug-chug the steamroller shout goes. I watched him neck three, then five. He was an utter car-crash disaster under the twinkly night, losing his sight at pub number nine. Now it was the pale ale for Charlie—We couldn’t stop him. It turned him into a ‘seer’, his superpower from getting plastered! Such a cheeky bastard! Well mister Charlie I bet you don’t know, that your mooning arse was battered over the news! You actually mean something, you wet wipe. You’re famous alright! Cheers, Bitch.
Err, I don’t know what to say here. It’s a ridiculous poem that I just…wrote. Enjoy!
© Thomas Gallimore Barker, 2021