Applebee's

What

do you mean

you're out of meatballs?

You have meat.

You have balls. 

Get in the kitchen

and shape that meat into balls.

Pour some cheese sauce on it

and charge me $15. 

Holograms

If you're going to resurrect stars from our past, have the decency to go all out. Dig up Johnny Cash. Boil his preserved remains until the tender meat falls off the bone like a medium rare prime rib and make a stew from the broth. Strip the flesh off of a pig and zip-tie it onto the cleaned bones and tattoo a "13" on his fucking neck. Cram that Japanese voice-simulating robot into his face. Hammer hooks into his wrists, attach strings, and make him dance like a marionette.

Plastic Bags

Fuck you plastic bags

With your crinkly noises

Swishing

Swoshing

Down the street. 

With your boa constrictor handles

Tightening

Tearing

Into the flesh of my arm. 

With your membrane thin walls

Ripping

Returning

My produce to the dirt below. 

A Letter to the Ghost of Billy Mays

To: The Ghost of Billy Mays

I am dissatisfied with my Big City Slider Station. It seared my mouth-watering Billy Burgers to perfection, but it just can’t outperform my frying pan. You see, my kids, they love The Three Stooges. When somebody comes to the door, I answer and say, “Hey chowderhead!” and wallop their skull with a frying pan. While the non-stick heavy-duty construction of your burger press provides more splatter, it doesn’t make the noise that the kids have come to expect. They prefer the ringing chimes of the frying pan as it takes its toll on the missionary’s head.

From: Drunk and Dissatisfied

--

Jeffery Shellenbarger

Yet Another Beach Poem

Oh, how the sand grits
between my pinkened toes
as I stroll along the breezy shore.

The smell of rotting fish carcasses
engulfs the gulf where I take a sip
from the Mai Tai in my weathered hands.

Over there, a seagull picks a crab
out of the sand with the precision
of a sniper in the deserts of Iraq.

My glossed-over eyes shift towards
waves battering the shore, rejecting 
the beer bottles left behind by kids.

There’s a boat off into the horizon
dredge fishing away all life
on the fertile sea bottom.

I’m told the sun is setting now,
but all I can see in the sky is darkness
saturated with ominous clouds.

If I had it my way, I would never leave
this wasteland of tourists and hooligans,
but I can only bring so much booze.

Pepperidge Farm

Do you remember
baking Christmas cookies with your mom
painting faces on the little gingerbread children
with sugary white icing?

Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Do you remember
waking up early on Saturday morning
turning on the TV to your favorite cartoons
and eating Cap’n Crunch?

Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Do you remember
crying yourself to sleep at night
worrying that your same-sex attractions
will make you an outcast?

Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Do you remember
the look on your ex-boyfriend’s face
when you fed him the line
It’s not you, it’s me?

Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Do you remember
the day you realized
that even though times were tough
things were gonna get better?

Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Mr. Clean

Squirt soap on hands,
Scrub scrub scrub
Rinse rinse rinse.

Clorox wipe soap bottle,
Scrub scrub scrub
Wipe wipe wipe

Squirt soap on hands,
Scrub scrub scrub
Rinse rinse rinse.

Clorox wipe Clorox Wipe bottle,
Wipe wipe wipe
Scrub scrub scrub

Clorox wipe soap bottle,
Scrub scrub scrub
Wipe wipe wipe

Squirt soap on hands,
Scrub scrub scrub
Rinse rinse rinse.

Dry hands on towel,
Shake shake shake
Dab dab dab.

Open door with towel,
Twist twist twist
Pull pull pull

Wash towel in sink,
Soap soap soap
Scrub scrub scrub

Clorox wipe Clorox Wipe bottle,
Wipe wipe wipe
Scrub scrub scrub

Clorox wipe soap bottle,
Scrub scrub scrub
Wipe wipe wipe

Squirt soap on hands,
Scrub scrub scrub
Rinse rinse rinse

Dry hands without towel
Shake shake shake
Blow blow blow.