Oh Billy McBuck

This is one of those pieces that I’m not sure I’ll ever find a market for. But that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying the madness of it. It's an old project I’ve recently touched up for submission—a story told through a poem in the style of a certain famous children’s poet.

Oh Billy McBuck

Oh Billy McBuck, you’re a shining young lad,
With gallant and valiant adventures at hand
but I fear I must warn you of dangerous Brad.
Ol’ Brad Bingsley Brunswick, contentious and mad.

See you Billy Boy, have a laugh far too glad
and your chu-chippy chuckle, well ol’ Brad just can’t stand.
So here comes the dangerous choice to be had:
to silence your laugh or to battle big Brad?

Oh Billy McBuck, you’re a shining young lad,
but you just cannot win with his scowl iron-clad!

You’ll silence your laugh like stopping a spout,
so when you crack up, no sound will come out.
Ol’ Brad will be gone, but friends will confound—
“It looks like a chuckle, but where is the sound?”

They’ll rush you to Dr. Jurgovian Clee
where he’ll make you say “Ah” and tap on your knee.
An x-ray or two and he’s certain to see
your funny bone’s broken in two, poor Billy.

“I’ll make you a deal,” the strange doc will then say
“I’ll give you my funny bone, give it away.
Now there’s only one catch, one request I must place:
go laugh the world over ‘til you’re blue in the face.”

You stare at the doctor, no clue what to do.
Do you take the doc’s funny bone and maybe turn blue?
Though you highly suspect it’s too good to be true,
“I’ll take it!” you shout. “Sign me up; I approve!”

But your smile soon fades, and then drops your jaw
as the doctor reveals his zip-sazz-litzer saw.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, “This isn’t for you.
Removing the bone is the hard part to do.”

You shout in protest, but not quite in time.
The doctor had carved from his chest through his spine
and out pulls a shard and hands it to you.
Holding blood-dripping bone, you really might spew.

“Oh, no,” the doc coughs, “That just will not do.
For the bone to take work it must be inside you.”
As he takes his last breath, he makes a small cut
in your chest, then plunges your hand in your gut.

You stand holding him, as limp as a leaf,
and the pain of your wounds blends with stunned disbelief.
You fall to your knees, you weep and you scream,
but that is just when you will wake from your dream.

Immediately, you reach for the gash.
No scar can be found, not even a rash.
It all seemed so real; was it make-believe?
From Brad to the sacrificial Dr. JC?

You forget all about it, go on with your day,
and it’s back to the school or college or fray.
When who would approach you but ol’ Brad indeed.
Ol’ Brad Bingsley Brunswick looks hungry with greed.

He already stole your poor laugh, but wants more—
your lunch money, maybe, or perhaps a small war,
but then comes your moment, the epic launch pad.
Oh Billy McBuck, you’re a shining young lad!

Because out comes a laugh that could flatten the man,
and blows him right out of this place to Japan.
Your laugh has returned, and for a moment you see
what seems to be Dr. Jurgovian Clee

He gives you a wink, and then walks out of sight.
You smile right back as he fades into white.
You’ll laugh the world over, just as he commands.
Oh, Billy McBuck, now go shine these dark lands.