Hushed On The Other Hand Pernicious

Hushed On The Other Hand Pernicious

As the sun had fallen neath the skyline, darkness inherited thy fields of grain.

Quintus Fallstaff, cut from a cloth of good quality men, a common farmer by trade,

hardworking and strong, he headed home with dinner on thy brain.

The Fallstaff home was a humble one, ne’er abundant, quaint, and thusly handmade.

The wind caressed the gentle night, trees softly waving, a gentle breeze doth build,

double-faced and sly. A storm is brewing, and yet the night feigns still.

Unseen dangers linger, conspiring in the night, soils of a Judas-kiss be trilled.

The seeds of treachery planted, masked by the nocturnal birdsong of the Eastern Whippoorwill.

Nary a time or place for the divulgence of such a covert operation,

however, bottling enigmatical energies can cause extreme bodily harm,

as well as cause thy mind vexation.

Quintus shoved on, “My stomach is hungry and grumbling, nothing of alarm.”

Staved off for the moment, the misleading misgivings of misery subsided,

“Do not trust your gut! The pit in your stomach will grow!”

Before Quintus an angry spirit apparated and seemingly provided,

a cryptic message a warning, foreboding, of what, Quintus did not know.

 “Perhaps thou spirit means well, but thy own stomach gurgle is gone.

I feel well enough now, and hungrier than ever. I must’nt dwell on.”

Quintus arrived home and his beloved Wife Paulina greeted him at thy door.

Much to his chagrin and surprise his in-laws were already seated at the table.

“Dear, I hadn’t known company would be-“ Paulina’s stern look was hardcore,

duly noted, gotcha, understood, now there is a look that is quite interpretable.

The formalities were underway, greetings and handshakes,

the in-laws brought their favorite mead.

Quintus’ stomach churned over, shivering with bodily earthquakes.

Was he nervous? Just hungry? The pit in his stomach was growing indeed.

Lady Paulina, the beautiful wife, knows something troubles him so.

“To abolish one’s own deepest secret, thyself must have faith and gamble thee.”

Lady Paulina continued, “Trust in their gut and go with the flow.”

Quintus retorted, “Grant, thou know lest faith turns to despair and dishonesty.”

 “What did you say, dear Quintus?” Paulina’s mother asked apathetically.

Quintus grumbled under his breath.

He was cursing the witches and thought she could be one, hypothetically.

What devilry or witchcraft is it that dares giveth visions of such falsities of death.

“I cannot shake the Spirits warning. Curse thee spirit of thy universe.

Curse thee for implanting images of false perverse!”

Quintus had excused himself after his little outburst,

Paulina worried for her Husband and excused herself as well.

“I do not know what reason found, alas perhaps I am cursed?!”

Paulina’s tender arms wrapped around thee befell.

Quintus cried out, “I fear I must release it soon, though I know not the emanation.”

Paulina tried to reassure him, “Try me, put till death do us part to thy test.

I appreciate the gesture with sincere adulation.”

Quintus smiled, “Do you know what my secret is? My beloved, why do you jest?”

Paulina quipped, “I noticed the moment you arrived home and we’re all wiggly.”

Quintus grumbled, “I feel a responsibility to be chivalrous almost a manly duty”

“Oh please, when you sleep? I’ve heard you do worse, Hark Thou Chivalry!

Let me hear you rip a cute one from thou little booty!”

Quintus griped, “Alas Paulina! You know how thy be!

I get stage fright, and all nervous. I can’t perform when you watch!”

Paulina turned her back towards her beloved and stifled a chortle of laughter and glee.

Quintus closed his eyes, concentrated real hard, real top-notch.

Still nothing arose, Quintus’ stomach in turmoil,

“I know not what to do, how to help you, my love.” Paulina felt defeated,

Quintus was too, “Perhaps with some food, it’ll uncoil?”

Paulina sighed, “After all that, I feel a bit cheated.”

The two joked and laughed, even playfully shoved. Paulina being okay with all this, made Quintus feel so loved.

The Eastern Whippoorwill’s nocturnal whistle echoed through the night,

and just as Quintus was about to be released,

a twig snapped and alerted them even gave’em a fright.

It was merely Quintus’ parents, they were also here for the feast.

“You must burrow it, halt it off hide it if you must.”

Paulina panicked, her in-laws doth approach,

“Maybe it could be a silent, a quiet whispered hush?”

“On the other hand pernicious either way we’re poached.”

Formalities came henceforth, Quintus’ bear-sized father gave him a bear-sized hug,

Lurking dread of betrayal beseeched by thy own Patriarch.

A danger is unbeknownst to them as Quintus had the Jitterbug.

Quintus was a gunpowder casket just waiting for a spark.

“Hark the heavens! I beg thee! Allow me the release from this foul glutaral treason.”

The Parents beckoned thee and asked, “Why do you take so long and why are you yelling? For what is the reason?”

Chatter filled the evening air, and joyful laughter bounced from wall to wall.

Quintus’ shadows stirred, lurkin’ and creepin’

he desperately searched for an exit away from them all.

All around him, two families come together their love saturating and seepin’

Wrought with tension there was a bubbling in his gut,

Be it a ghastly soundly, a discernably unsettling scent, or something far worse?

Betrayal brews burrowed beneath my butt,

Quintus fought hard, admirably hard against the abdominal adverse.

“Alas! Thine own mind cannot taketh this madness any longer!”

Quintus shouted, though the room knoweth not, the burrowing of a furtive fart,

has put him on edge for hours. Still, strong of will and mind Quintus our dear crop monger,

has had enough, the body has its limits, “from thine quivering butt doth depart.”

Trapped, a suffering Quintus stood, surrendering, surrounded by his loved ones still,

Foregoing all formalities, from lack of formal words, the sound henceforth was “wowsers”,

Sounding eerily not so dissimilar to that of the birdsong of the Eastern Whippoorwill.

It sounded off a crescendo, Quintus whimpered, “I hath shiteth my Trousers.”

Hark Quintus bellowed these whispered words towards this ultimate betray,

“Et tu Boot’e”