ANOTHER FINE MESS
Wanting Tony-of-Medium to Give Us More Money— A Smillew-is-Medium Poetry Prompt Response
A limerick cornucopia
I blame Smillew Rahcuef and Roz Warren, Writing Coach for this nonsense.
Together, those two twisted minds cooked up a scheme to have us all write love poetry to Tony, the freakin’ CEO of the greatest online publishing behemoth in the known universe, begging him for more money.
Read this 👇. You’ll see. 👀
In his story Smillew challenged me write a limerick or two or three and claimed he was actually looking forward to reading them.
Not wanting to disappoint, I’ve complied with the Great One’s demands.
And, since I’m always pushing the envelope, coloring outside the lines, thinking outside the box, and breaking new wind with my poetry, I enlisted AI’s aid in my writing.
It’s all been a harrowing experience.
Enjoy!
Not wanting to be just a rude kvetch, a whiner, a beggar, a shameless gold-digger or any other single form of lowlife I decided to be all those things and try a variety of approaches in my pleas for mo’ money from Tony the Medium honey.
Respectful groveling
Dear Tony, please won’t you comply? And grant ‘nother slice o’ your pie It’s sure to be tasty Now don’t be too hasty But don’t wait too long or I’ll cry
You see, I need some more loot Have mercy and please give a hoot Send some more coin Before I purloin And wind up in a lawsuit
Edgy and rude
There once was a big chief named Tony Known for extreme parsimony We searched high and low But no cash did show Though we knew it was all some baloney
His wallet he claimed it was bare Like a hairless and pale derrière “I got no mo’ money” “But keep writin’ honey” And I’ll scare up a friend who will care
Accusatory and Frankly Disgusting
In his workplace, it’s all about toil, For a paycheck, our blood and sweat boil, But when payment doth come And we pull out our thumb It’s into our shorts do we soil
Demanding, Gold-Diggerish, Insulting
Without some more bucks I’ll be stuck I might even, oh heavens! say “FUCK!!” So make us all Friends A means to an end Just chuck us a buck you big schmuck
Conciliatory and Vaguely Willing to Trade Sexual Favors
I’ll come sweep the Medium floors And polish some knobs … on the doors Please give me more loot Please please give a hoot Or I’ll be living in the great outdoors
And finally, a smear of pure unadulterated humorless AI BS
In need of more money, I’m stuck, My pockets are feeling so pluck, But with hard work and grind, I’ll leave my worries behind, And soon, my bank account will be struck!
OK Big Tone. The ball is now in your court.