The Raisin (a parody)

Once upon a midmorning dreary,

while I stumbled bleak and weary, toward

a box of cereal that I bought at the

grocery store ---

 

While I plodded, nearly napping,

suddenly there came a rapping, as if a

Rapper gently rapping, rapping and

sounding rather dour. “It’s some radio, I

muttered, playing outside my kitchen

door ---

only this and nothing more”.

 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was a

bleak December; as I tripped and

stumbled dropping cereal upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished for tomorrow; vainly I

had sought to borrow from my bookies

some measure of sorrow, sorrow for the

football score – for barely competent and

disappointing team with a losing football

score.

Nameless to me evermore.

 

And it seemed the room was moving

or was it my head spinning thrilling me –

filling me with a sickness I have felt

many times before; so that now with a

painful head and queasy stomach, stood

repeating “it’s the drink I had last night

and damn the rapping outside my

kitchen door. Some blasted neighbor

playing a radio outside of my kitchen

door ---

that it is and nothing more.”

 

Presently my stomach grew calmer

and hesitating no longer. “Hey fella.” I

said, “or lady, truly your thoughtfulness I

implore; but the fact is I was napping,

and you so rudely came rapping, and so

crudely you came rapping, rapping

outside my kitchen door, you must be

sure I heard you” --- and I opened wide

the door ---

blinding brightness there and nothing

more.

 

Long into that brightness peering,

long I stood there just staring, doubting,

wondering why there was no one outside

my kitchen door; but the silence was

broken, and the brightness gave no

token, and the only word there spoken

was the whispered words, “have some

more!” ---

Only this and nothing more.

 

Back into the kitchen turning, and my

heart within me burning, soon again I

heard the rapping somewhat louder than

before. “Surely,” said I, “surely that is

something near my kitchen window; let

me see, then, what it could be, and this

racket I’ll explore --- let my heartburn

ease up a moment and this mystery I’ll

explore ---

It’s my imagination and nothing

more!”

 

Over to the counter I lurched and

weaved and dizzily stumbled, and there

stood a big plump Raisin bigger than any

I’d seen before; not the least objection

made he; but not a minute stopped or stayed

he; but with an attitude of kingly

presence jumped up and over the kitchen

floor --- and perched upon the cereal box

I had bought at the grocery store ---

perched, and sat, and nothing more.

 

Then this ebony fruit beguiling my sad

stupor into smiling, by the grave and

stern decorum of the countenance it

wore, “though your body be shiny and

wrinkled, you,” I said, “are sure no

Craisin, ghastly grim and ancient Raisin

wandering from the convenience store ---

tell me what is the name you are called

and what brings you to my door?” ---

Said the Raisin “have some more.”

 

Much I marveled this wrinkly little

fruit to hear it talk so plainly, though it’s

answer had no meaning --- while my

head throbbed to it’s core; for I could not

help thinking that no living being, being

ever so yet blessed with seeing dried fruit

talking that came from the store ---

and with such words as “have some

more.”

 

But the Raisin sitting plump and smug

on the cereal box, spoke only those few

words, as if his soul in those words he did

outpour. Nothing farther did he

mutter --- till I scarcely more that

muttered “other hallucinations have

gone before --- and tomorrow he will

leave me, as these visions have flown

before.”

Then the Raisin said “have some

more.”.

 

Startled at the stillness broken by

reply so aptly spoken, “doubtless”, said I,

“what it says is it’s only stock and store

that I got from some unhealthy drinking

to disaster followed fast and followed

faster till my head on burden bore ---

until the dirges of any hope that

melancholy drink did bore” ---

of “of have some more”.

 

But the Raisin still beguiling all my

fancy into smiling, straight I wheeled a

kitchen chair in front of the Raisin from

the store; then, upon my stomach

sinking, I took myself to blinking fantasy

unto fantasy, thinking what this ominous

fruit of lore --- what this grim, ungainly,

ghastly, wrinkled, shrunken fruit of lore

meant in croaking, “have some more.”

 

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no

syllable expressing to the Raisin whose

fiery eyes now burned into my mental

core; this and more I sat thinking, with

my head in hands sitting on the kitchen

chair that the ceiling light shone down

over, in the hard wooden seat with the

glaring light shinning over,

he shall press, ah, have some more!

 

Then, I thought, the air grew thicker

and perfumed like burning incense

swung by a hippy whose footfalls tinkled

on the linoleum floor. “Wretch, “I cried,

“thy God has sent thee --- by his angels

he hath sent thee --- respite --- respite and

dull from my memories of passing out on

the floor; quaff, oh drink some strong

alcoholic drink and remember this vision

no more!”

Quote the Raisin “have some more.”

 

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! ---

prophet still, if Raisin or devil! By that

Heaven that bends above us --- by that

God we both adore --- tell this head with

sorrow laden if, within the distant

paradise, it shall clasp a sainted brew

who the angels named Greenore --- clasp

a rare and radiant whisky whom the

angels named Greenore”,

quote the Raisin “have some more”.

 

“Be those our sign of parting, shrunken

fruit!” I shrieked, jumping up --- “Get you

back into thy box of raisins and by God

bother me no more! Leave no black

wrinkle as a token of that lie in your

mouth has spoken! --- Quit my sight and

be here no more! Take your quotes out

from my ears, and take your form out of

the door!”

Quote the Raisin “have some more.”

 

And the Raisin, never moving, still is

sitting, still is sitting on the cereal box as

I reach for the bottle and glass to pour;

and his eyes have all the seeming of a

demon that is scheming, and the ceiling

light over him streaming throws his

shadow on the floor; and my soul from

out that shadow that lies floating on the

floor

shall be sober --- nevermore!