Poe's woes

Poe's Woes by J.B. Pravda

Convinced that his Muses were variously housed within the breasts of
sundry domesticated creatures, the great though troubled writer would
often perch a housecat upon his shoulder for the requisite inspiration;
it was on just such an occasion, near mid-night dark and dreary, not to
mention meteorologically unstable to the point of violent storms, that
Poe met his masterstroke: he would visit the Baltimore Zoological
Gardens, and therein acquaint himself with the wild tiger there
displayed------the next morning his masterpiece, now sadly lost, was
complete, albeit at the cost of a hideous hump where his right arm used
to be----he would never write again, drunkenly wandering the streets,
murmuring "Ouch!"