Daily Prompt, humor, poetry, writing

The Day Alex Woke

bad poetry

Alex woke one morning feeling sick
Something inside him wouldn’t click
A hard night he’d had but was not hungover
But he did wake up with his dog Rover.

Getting out of bed he still felt weird
He scratched his balls, he scratched his beard
The pains he had were in his heart
They still remained after a massive fart

The pain got worse, felt like he’d crack
So without further ado he rung the quack
The one thing he wasn’t was a cynic
So off he went down to the clinic

The doctor ran all sorts of tests
He even put his stethoscope on his breast
He took some blood and made Alex cough
Took his temp then from the bed he got off

“It’s not good news,” the doctor said
“It’s in your blood and it’s in your head,
So please don’t scream with any shrillness
But you’d got yourself a terminal illness.”

Bad news it was and Alex could not wait
“Give it to me doc, give it too me straight.”
Alex said, his voice sounded a little bereft
“Tell me doc, how long have I left?”

The doc replied , “I’m sorry my mate, but you only have ten.”
“Ten what?” Alex asked, “Weeks, years, oh please tell me Ken?”
Alex was getting desperate he really wanted a sign
Then with all the tact of a brick the doctor said, “Nine.”


  1. Is this a guy thing? I don’t get it?

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