Where has my fork gone?
I cannot find it anywhere.
I’ve looked in the cupboard
Behind the greasy jar of goo
I’ve looked in the sink
Man oh man what a stink!
I’ve even gone through everyone’s desk
Risking suspension and arrest.
Pero, done esta mi tenedor,
Lleno de dulce amor?
Four prongs of happiness
that skewer my tasty treats
Did you escape into the night,
Scampering out the door on tiny forky feets?
Are you hiding behind the fridge
Scared by some wraithy fright
Visiting our kitchen in the dark dark night?
Maybe forks are migratory and you’re forking north
With a flock of stainless-steels
Heading for some mating grounds,
Which brings up an important question:
Do forks spoon?
Knives are necessary,
And spoons are good for soup,
But a fork has its place,
For forky kinds of goop.
Please come back to me.
I need to eat my lunch.
And I’d like to do it with you.
Whah! Whah!
Where have all the forks gone?
And why? Why? Why?
This is an update about things office-related. I could talk about being a DI assistant too, but, not to be an egotist or anything, it’s just so difficult and complicated you couldn’t possibly understand.
Fin,
Charlisimo
DI Assistant
Secret Agent
Office Lackey
(in that order)
