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Rebels Lane

Adventures of the Mind

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There are many sounds that set your teeth

That make you squirm or give you grief,

That raise the hairs upon your neck

Or make you jump or even sick.

Like the scratch, of nails on glass or slate

Or the long slow, drag of a fire grate,

Like the creek of the floor in a darkened room

Or when alone there’s a sudden BOOM!

Like the hiss of a snake lying near your foot

Or the splat on your head of rotting fruit

Like air escaping from a deflating tyre

Or the plop of a boot stuck deep in the mire.

But the sound you wish you never would hear,

That sickens and thickens your heart with fear,

A sound that turns even a mounty pale

Is the sound under foot of the crunch of a snail!

 

When the sun is set and air quite chill,

Curtains drawn, abodes dead still,

Out from cleft and hiding place,

Glide those molluscs at mollusc pace,

An army marching with savage powers.

Seeking juicy plants and flowers,

Munching and chewing till all is gone

Supping till all the carnage is done.

But then when full obese and fat,

Promenade the patio, sit and chat

Until returning late from work

The householder with a company perk.

Worn and tired so glad to arrive

He steps from car into the drive

Steps into the gathered throng

And CRUNCH!

     his sanity,

           his mentality and emotional stability

                       in mind piercing agony

                            in an instant is totally, and utterly         -         GONE!

 

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The Worst Sound in the World