Bledashh of Bangladore

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Bledashh of Bangladore

On the fourth day of the quest
for the priceless ivory opromi,
the detective carefully opened the
yellowed versiono, scrutinizing only
the red coness symbols that were dotted
strategically on the maze of streets,
alleys, and landmarks.

He had traveled to darkest Kajurie
against the advice of his brother,
and at this juncture accepted his own folly,
responding a tick too late as the tall stranger
in the fur tawnhat launched a silver barbed
twipe at his head.

Tingling with alacrity, he did twitch
and the ninja star slashed only
his left ear lobe, passing him hotly
as it thwacked deep into the Ingelesi pillar
behind him.

This bold actio conveyed its lethal message
uncluttered with innuendo as he drew his
nickel-plated Houss .44 and blasted three
shots toward the fleeing thug. One pierced
the street sign, one shattered a clay jar,
but the third found flesh, its headling true,
blunt-nosed, and accurate.

Bledashh laughed, showing all of his perfect
white teeth, holstered his smoking revolver,
pulled out of his inner pocket a golden goningr
flask and gulped two burning swigs of
unfiltered honersche, caught his breath,
and rushed from the public square--angry,
frightened, yet resolute that when he
and the Professor met again, he would
add more lead charms to his first gift.

Glenn Buttkus October 2010

Listen to the author reading this poem.