The Day God Created Mosquitoes”
When God was enjoying a wonderful day -
He coloured the ocean, the sea and the spray.
He peppered the planet with forests of trees -
With sweet subtle scents on a warm summer’s breeze.
He crafted the kitten, and when he was done -
Perfected the pup and the penguin for fun.
He playfully reached in the depths of his mind -
And found all the finest of Animal Kind.
“A toast,” he exclaimed, “to the things that I’ve made!
The creatures I’ve crafted, the plans that I’ve laid!”
And so with fulfilment, content to his core,
He knocked back a whiskey… and poured himself more.
The following morning he woke in a daze.
He woke with a head full of headache and haze.
He woke with a groan and a moan of distress.
He woke and he rose, and his place was a mess.
The whiskey was empty.
The cupboards were bare.
He’d drank till the dawn of the morn in his chair.
And when all his liquors had passed by his lip -
He’d conjured a spirit for spirits to sip.
“Good Heavens,” he whispered, “oh boy, what a night -
At least nothing happened!” he said with delight.
He walked to his workshop.
He went for his key.
He stared with dismay, and he said “oh my me.”
His organised boxes of animal parts -
The toes and the noses, the lungs and the hearts -
He’d spilled them; he’d mixed them and filled them and split.
He’d opened the box that said Horrible Shit.
“Oh Jesus,” said Jesus, from somewhere behind.
“You’ve got to stop drinking each time you’ve designed!”
But God heard the buzzing.
He whispered with doubt:
“I’m sure that it’s nothing to worry about…”