The Cecilnomicon: Childe Cecil to the Dark Wendy's Came

My first thought was, he lied in every word,

That sneaky Z'rpblat, with blackened smooth eye

And lips that were slits but still spoke the lie

Without motion and without a sound heard

For his voice were thoughts and into mine pour’d

As spoke all from Zeta Reticuli.

Could he not be bothered to hide his laugh?

I’m sure he could have if he deign’d to care

But manners in aliens are too rare

And Z’rp, who considers mankind quite naff

Before the first sip of his nightly quaff

Had many empties toss’d about his chair.

If at his counsel I did turn aside

The entire night he would badger me

“Please Cecil, let us go see the Wendy,

That redhead with burgers and nuggets fried,

With Frosty, cola, and fries on the side.

We can feast, we can- Wait! I need to pee.”

And up through the sound of washroom tinkling

Came the half hearted lie that gave me hope

“I’m buying,” he said as he pumped the soap.

Thought of a meal set my stomach rumbling

And it would put end to all his grumbling,

So yes, I agreed, like some sort of dope.

“Excellent!” he said, cracking one more brew.

“Z’rp!” I called, the trip already threatened

By open container laws just strengthened.

“You cannot begin a beverage new

Lest sworn officers of the law spot you.”

“Who cares?” he said, waving fingers lengthened.

“I care for one,” I said, “I am your guide

While on Earth you remain you must keep low

Or you will end up on that X-Files show.”

“I would look good on TV,” spoke his pride

“But not in a line-up,” I had to chide.

His reply? A belch. Then we were good to go.

I shut the door to my house with a click.

Walking about town, Z’rp wears a disguise,

In order to shield him from prying eyes.  

But that does not stop him acting the prick

Upping the chance us the cops would up pick

Even though he appears one of the guys.

So I checked him for bottle, and for flask,

And for can. I checked him for fireworks,

Laser pointers, and other tools of jerks.

I wished he was wearing a nicer mask

But for him that was just too much to ask.

So to Wendy’s I went with James T. Kirk.

We crossed through Salem Common under light

Of moon and streetlamp. The wind through tall trees

Whistled on Lord Skritch’s web covered leaves

That continues to spread, a silken blight.

But that’s a problem for another night.

Still, I hoped we could make it through with ease.

Alas, I was wrong for Z’rp found trouble-

Segway tourists out for an evening’s roll.

“You lazy wretches you must pay a toll!”

He shouted after them, “On the double!”

They ran him over and burst his bubble.

Anger filled his eyes, hatred black as coal.

“I shall make them pay!” he called, drawing a

Silvery rod from a hole I knew not

He had and aimed it towards the spot

They had just occupied. It shot a ray

Of blue green light. “No Z’rp! You cannot slay

Them!” But it was too late, the rod went ZOT!

Lucky for the tourists, Z’rp’s aim was poor

And the bolt of energy struck the Arch

Where the damage done was not very harsh

And easily obscured by its faded grandeur.

I quickly wrestled Zr’pblat to the floor,

the only other victim an old larch.

“What are you doing?” I shouted at him

“You can’t just blast whoever you want to!”

“Just watch me!” He yelled, and started Round 2.

So we rolled and we fought, a serious scrim!

He let it go with a kick in the shin.

“Z’rpblat!” I complained, “What is wrong with you?”

The alien shrugged as only he could

“They rely on technology too much.”

How one who owns a spaceship could say such

A thing made me shake my head as I stood

I said, “We need to get out of this ‘hood.”

I pulled him up, grey skin cold to the touch.

He fixed his mask. We heard sirens wail.

Now was no time for a conversation

As police officers fled their stations

Hopefully they would not believe the tale

Told them by tourists too lazy or frail

To visit the sites by ambulation.

Down Hawthorne we hurried, hoping to blend

Into the morass mess of a ghost walk

We hid amongst them til end of the block

Then at Derby we went around the bend

Our pace quickened nearing our journey’s end

But at Lafayette Z’rp called us to stop.

“I just remembered,” he spoke in my head,

“I left my cash in my other space suit.”

At his pockets he pretended to root.

And he spoke the words I have come to dread,

“Cecil, can you spot me a little bread?”

I wondered if I could make the rod shoot.

What could I do? I just nodded assent.

I knew from the start his promises, lies

And that I would be buying all the fries.

Z’rp never has money, dollars or cents

When the bill comes, you wonder where he went.

Z’rpblat is just one of those cheapskate guys.

I checked my pockets and found them quite full

A stark contrast to how my stomach felt

I was aching with hunger, I tugged my belt

Succumbed did we to our appetites’ pull

Hand in hand we charged, devouring bulls

Crossing Derby towards where Wendy’s dwelt.

We sprinted, we ran, our quest nearly done

We heard not the yells nor the cars honking

So focused we were to reach the parking

Lot surrounding Lafayette 91

I recalled some verse that sounds like this’un

By a poet long dead, Robert Browning.

Across the lot our destination stood

But there was something wrong! Where once like flame

Did the sign glow red, there was darkened name.

It was closed, a note read, due to a flood!

Z’rp swore loud, I mustered what strength I could

And sighed, “Childe Cecil to the Dark Wendy’s came.”