A MODERN ADAPTATION OF THE SEAMAN'S TALE FROM CHAUCER'S CANTERBURY TALES
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Cruise to Nowhere Tales |
THE ENGINEER'S TALE There was a taxi driver
named Miguel Ah, the world is too full of such fools! Better a wife who's plain and full of love Than one whose lovely head is chock-full of Ways to spend what you work hard to earn. But those who wed for lust will never learn! Never even thinking what a life One might have to live with such a wife. And so it was with poor Miguel, who drove All day long on crowded, dangerous roads To feed his wife's desire for brand-name stuff, Of which, of course, she never had enough, Too tired, mostly, to enjoy the charms He had so long envisioned in her arms, And, besides, too angry at her greed To feel the slightest stirring of his need. Still, it felt quite good when he could see Men stare at her and wish that they were he. One day Mary Lou, as usual, Was shopping at a nearby high-end mall When she saw a lovely Prada bag That made her cold heart ping and spirits sag, For at a thousand it was quite a steal, And yet no calculation could reveal How she might get cash enough to pay For it. Until she found another way. With dreams of that bag dancing in her head, A little dark-brown clutch with hints of red, She called a close friend of her husband, who Her husband called a cousin. But she knew That he would love to get her into bed, Though he was never crude in what he said. She asked that they go out for lunch, which he Was pleased to do, listening while she Complained about her husband bitterly, And how he treated her so stingily. He was a loser, not worthy of her glance, And here she was, trapped by circumstance. All she wanted was a little clutch, A tiny bag, it wasn't asking much, But she was sure that he would tell her no. Oh how! Oh how could he reward her so! All she did was love him, give him pleasure! Other men would treat her as a treasure! "I would," his friend Ramon at last broke in, As she had expected, "were I him. How much does it cost?" "Not much," she said. "A thousand. It's a steal." He clutched his head. "A thousand! I don't have that much! I would, Believe me, give it gladly if I could. For I have loved you from the moment I First saw you in the glint in Miguel's eye When he told me about you. And since then I've wanted you without a word. But when You just revealed your feelings, I felt free At last to tell you what you mean to me." "Oh, Ramon, my darling, never fear!" She said. "I have a plan, as you shall hear. We shall get my stingy husband to Cough up the money for my bag, while you Get everything you want -- and more -- today! If you do precisely as I say." That afternoon Ramon called up his friend And asked him for a short-term loan, to tend To an investment for which cash was due. "How much?" Miguel asked. "A grand. Too much for you?" "When can I have it back?" "Just till tomorrow." And so Miguel allowed his friend to borrow A thousand dollars from his cash reserve, As true friends ever one another serve. Straight from Miguel, Ramon went to deliver The cash to Mary Lou, who gave the giver All he could desire, and more than he Had dreamed of in his wildest fantasy. Then off she went back to the Prada store To buy the bag that she was lusting for. Next day Miguel inquired of his friend About the loan. When did he intend To pay it back? "I gave it to your wife," He said. "This morning. I swear upon my life!" "I believe you," Miguel said. "But she Said nothing of this interchange to me." Ramon shrugged, so Miguel said nothing more, But waited till they went to bed before He asked his lovely wife whether she Had gotten from Ramon the money he Had lent him just the day before. "Oh, yes! And guess what I got -- Oh, you'll never guess!" She hopped right out of bed, turned on the light, As if assuming mutual delight, And took out the Prada bag, a treasure So beautiful it must give equal pleasure To both of them. "It was a steal!" she said. "I knew you wouldn't mind!" Then back to bed She leapt. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she Cried out, smothering him with joy, while he Just lay there, hapless, helpless, hopeless, numb To love and lust alike, aware how dumb He was, and how many miles he'd have to drive To pay for this, and how he must deprive Himself of many things he might enjoy, While she, laboring to his member buoy, Plied his body with exquisite art, Engaging every morsel but the heart. |