In his pretty cottage

in his nice armchair,

he was sitting, sipping

afternoon tea from the china cup

with the red floral pattern,

when the room gloomed and darkened.

He placed the cup on the saucer

carefully,

rose, went to the window,

and stared past the chintz curtains

at a very large creature,

a wall of brown fur,

sitting on most of his previously immaculate lawn

and part of the flower bed with the nice little crescent,

crushing chrysanthemums, and

staring back

blankly.

 

Oh bother, he thought,

a creature from the jungle

again.

What will this one want?

I wonder if it's dangerous.

How to make it go away?

Bullets never work.

“Feed me”, it said,

“Feed me and I will tell you stories

of your jungle”.

“It's not my jungle”, he said,

at which the creature laughed,

a huge, long, rumbling, chuckling laugh.

“You're blotting out the light”, says he.

“Why do you want light”, it says.

“So I can see”, says he.

“So you want to see”, it says

and laughs,

a huge, rumbling, chuckling, mocking laugh.

“He wants to see

He wants to see

He wants to see”