Weight To Go

Weight To Go

A fat woman threw some silver in a well,
'I would like for you to cast a spell.
I want to lose ten stone of meat
And have adoring lovers at my feet.'

A voice rose from within the wet,
'Go home, your wishes will be met.'
Believing in this awful twaddle,
She hurried home at a speedy waddle.
'Coo-ee!' she called to her man
As she homed in on the frying pan.

Oblivious to the empty place,
She happily began filling her face.
She ate with a minimum of fuss -
Food never touched her oesophagus.
It disappeared at an alarming rate
And very soon she cleared the plate.

She called again for her spouse
'Where are you dear (you little louse!) ?
Such endearing terms as this
Were not conducive to wedded bliss.
So it will be no surprise to us -
He'd left on a bright red omnibus!

At last she found he had left a letter
Explaining he'd gone for something better.
Fearing for an end to his life
By another squashing from his wife.
(The thought of becoming a large pancake
Was more than he poor man, could take)

It took time for the message to sink in -
He'd upped and left for someone thin !
Then she realised much to her cost
That her husband was the ten stone she'd lost!

Feeling weak from the note she'd read,
She scoffed a slice of buttered bread.
Pretty soon the whole loaf followed
As in her miserable plight she wallowed.
She cried and quivered over her fate -
Just like a jelly on a plate.

Returning to the fairy to give her hell
She screeched and bellowed down the well.
(The snack made her stronger somehow)
'He's left me for some skinny cow!
Is this your idea of a sick joke?
I weigh the same and I've lost my bloke!
I paid an enormous sum
To get rid of my belly and my bum!
(And calling her "The Fairy From Hell"
Wasn't endearing to the resident of the well)

The fairy, with her temper up,
Began to fume and stir and run amuck.
The water boiled and steamed and spat,
Then she roared 'Enough of that!'

Taking up the fight, Her voice reverberated and roared,
As amid smoke and lightening , up the tube it soared.
'You paid lots of money - you lump of lard?
I don't sell wishes by the yard!
What do you expect for twenty pee?
Would you work for such a paltry fee?
For that kind of sum I have to announce
You'll lose less than half an ounce!'

The fairy continued to roar
Until the lady, beaten, could take no more.
Sadly realising she'd lost the fight
The tears flowed freely from her plight.

From this flood the waters rose
Causing the fairy to hold her nose.
Feeling some degree of remorse
She said, 'Do' cry by dear - it coo be worse!'
Very soon the sobbing subsided
And the fairy kindly, had decided
To give her another chance,
By way of a bank loan advance.

She explained how a modern well is run,
All cash-flow and not much fun.
'With costs and overheads on an upward trend
Wishes are graded to how much you spend,
What with inflation, V.A.T. and such
I'm afraid my dear, you are out of touch.
I know it sounds terribly tough
But twenty pee is just not enough.

For a person of my enormous aptitude
And for a task of this magnitude,
You'll need real dosh for a wish like that
For your aim of losing buckets of fat.'

The lady felt now she'd been a miser
Still fat, but at least a lot wiser.
The fairy produced some forms to be filled
The lady you know, was less than thrilled.
She signed a bankers draft -
Although the idea seemed somewhat daft -
Stating the amount she would pay,
And guaranteeing she'd have her way.
But what was much, much worse -
The whole damn thing was done in verse!

Agreeing to an APR of 38\\%
With a lighter heart to her home she went.

During this passage of time
Her husband, to quote, 'That bag of slime!'
While away had put on weight.
He now weighed ten stone eight.

For the next few days she stayed in
Waiting for the fairy's work to begin.

A knock at the door and she was on her feet.
She opened it to find, all dapper and neat,
Dressed in a bright green full-length pakamac,
The Stick Insect had brazenly brought her man back.

The husband, who had been bowled over by her charms
Was now lying there, cradled in his lover's arms.
'I don't know what's happened, so I've brought him back
A maternal instinct is something I lack!'
'Stickie' handed him over with a flourish
With nappies, and a bottle to nourish

Looking down at him, the wife's rage began to dwindle
At being caught by the fairy's latest swindle.
At eight pounds he looked rather cute -
A cross between a puppy and a newt.

The poor man, the plaything of two women, and the fairy's curse -
His wife was now his 'mother' and his nurse.

She changed him and gave him his feed
Then as an encore, again he wee'd.
But things weren't really all that bad,
In parts he was still quite a big lad!

A year had passed in some pleasure and pain
Washing him, changing him, and doing it again.
She looked after him night and day -
Much like any other husband you might say.

Mutual dependence
Brought love in attendance.
Their bond nurtured them both,
And sustained each in spiritual growth.

Three-hourly feeds and up all night,
By the end of this she was a beautiful sight.
During this time the frying pan hadn't seen the cooker,
And now heads turned for this wonderful looker.

Twelve months of work and love have passed,
And now she weighs eight stone - at last!

Richard Early