Satire - The Cautionary Tale of Sir Rhymealot - by Hannah Smith

The Cautionary Tale of Sir Rhymealot: *No harm intended towards poets*

Sir Rhymealot’s morning routine was like any others. He spent his days wasting away at work and his evenings reading books and such. But something was odd about this man. Those who came across him would think he was normal at first glance, but when his mouth was opened all that emerged was rhymes. “Would you like the normal my good man?” the waiter at the local breakfast restaurant said. “A tea for me, that is my plea,” he replied. The man was surprised that yet again he ordered in a rhyme. He was a rather unusual customer because of this. At first the waiters and waitresses thought he was making fun, but then when talking to the man, noticed that he rhymed every single word, even while speaking on the phone. Whispers began to spread through the town and people began to try and trick him out of rhymes. It never worked; he always had a new rhyme. Sir Rhymealot was a phenomenon known only to exist once in the history of mankind. After his morning tea was done, he went to walk his dog in the park. He had a white poodle and was quite fond of it. A little boy approached him and asked to pet the dog. Mister, can I pet your puppy? Of course, young man, simply stretch out your han(d). The boy chuckled and petted the soft, white fur. “What’s the puppies name?” the curious child asked. “My poodle’s name is Stroodle.” “Oh wow, what a cute name.” The little boy began to notice that he was rhyming. A large grin appeared on the eager child’s face, and he looked up at the man. “Notice my peculiar dialect? Do you object?” he spoke. The kid snorted and pointed at him. “You’re so funny, stop with the act already.” “I’m sorry, child, this is not an act, you see I have made a pact.” At this statement the air around them began to thicken as things became uncomfortable. “Umm, I think my mommy is over there. I’m gonna see myself off now.” “Make no mistake, you would be eating cake.” The child ran at this statement, as he was told never to accept anything sweet from a stranger. The rhyming once again had gone too far. Would he ever cease to act in such a way? Some people cannot be convinced or changed. Sir Rhymealot’s case was no different. Rhyming was a part of his being, who he was, and how he lived. No one, no matter how hard they tried could stop this. He was doomed to rhyme his entire life. “Oh Stroodle, I must say, the sky looks like a huge beret.” The poodle looked up at him, seeming to understand his statement. The huge cloud that was over the sky did have a resemblance to the hat of his wording. A police officer noticed the encounter with the young child and approached the man. “What did you say to that poor young child that had him running like he was being chased by a bear?” “I know not what you mean. He was so very lean.” “Is that a threat I hear?” “You are mistaken, I have only just reawakened.” “That is it, you are a weird man.” He handed him a paper with a warning on it. “If you continue to go around rhyming like this, people might begin to question your sanity.” “I’m sorry my good man, I must go cook in my pan.” He walked off, leaving the police officer stunned and at a loss for words. This man had gone too far. He returned to his home and cooked up some stew and rested, considering his actions that day. He smiled to himself and concluded that people wouldn’t understand the true art of rhyming like he did. In his mind, the whole world should be rhyming. But no one understood him. No one could see the world the way he did. He was doomed to be alone in his rhyming spree. “You understand me Stroodle, now I must doodle.” He picked up a pen and began to draw. Sir Rhymealot did something that most people would call excessive. Rhyming is ok until it’s overdone, as in this peculiar man’s particular case. It did him more harm than good, yet he continued. Be warned, rhyming may seem like a nice pastime. But it can’t be your life. This man sits imprisoned in his home, a prisoner of his own insanity.