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Doc's Delusion (or "Fudd is Sicker Than Walter”)
by Dr.Moose1
For a good "Thyme", this was
quite a place
Oh sure we had Cratchet, just taking
up space
Laughing at fate, we threw food during
lunch
Lost some more brain cells, that
machine packs a punch
Oh what the heck, there's more where
they're from
Won't need them for dinner, looks like
no-one will come
Maybe they're hiding, like kids who've
been bad
Everyone in here, but me, is quite mad
'Bout time I start looking, for a way
to bust out
Evening medication, makes me twist and
shout
Will anyone join me, I must be on my
way
Although I'm in here by myself,
"majority rules" today
Ron's the one that built this place,
and sent out invitations
You couldn't ask to find a better
host, with fewer machinations
Quintessential quality, in all things
institutional
Unless of course you try to leave, and
are diagnosed delusional
If it comes to that, grab your hat
Every time you visit. They've got one
here
That'll scorch your ears, with
electricity exquisite
Into this place I Mamboed, by myself
but not alone
'My feet dancing to the beat of
"Serling's Twilight Zone"
They thought this quite unusual, I
guess they didn't see
What they deemed delusional, they
projected onto me
And the deeper they looked, they liked
less what they saw
Could'a knocked the whole bunch down,
with a sody-fountain straw
Kicked them in the PHD's, if given
half a chance
Inserted some spare pocket change, and
told 'em all to dance
Not me nope no way no how, I just let
it go
Got better ways to pass the time, than
this dog and pony show
They can't fool me around the block,
I'm wise to all their tricks
Having been to 'stutes before, I know
who's really sick
All those on the outside, there's more
wrong with them than us
They don't know they're outta control,
and no-one's driving the bus
Screwy as it just might sound, keep
this under your hat
Could be if the word gets out, we'd
fill up just like that
Right now it's pretty lonely, they're
all gone today
Everybody but my good pal Walt, he's
never far away
Walter keeps me company, he knows all
the 'toons
Yup, even the red dwarf's name, the
one that Pluto moons
Ratchet used to tell me, that this
wasn't so
All she ever wanted, was to wreck our
fun you know
There were times I'll tell you, when I
just kept on talking
'Cause it seemed the only thing, that
drowned out her constant squawking
Having clued you in, let us now begin
It should be no surprise. More than
what is here
There shall be made clear, before to
us she's wise
Shhhhhhh! heh heh heh heh heh
Shhhhhhh!
I think she's hiding
in the rubber room,
follow me
I'll take you
where you need to go.
First things first
drink this water
you look a bit dehydrated.
(never trust your eyes
they can play tricks on you)
No more twacking Rachit
till the rubber room
sets you free.
Kwatchit got wise, to my wittle
twicks
I twied to be qwiet, but it didn't
help one bit
She's one cwafty wady, I'm wewwy
supwised
She found my aqwostic, with no help
fwom you guys
When I wasn't wooking, she picked up
the thwead
Which I weally thought, was over her
head
And now things are going, fwom bad
to worse
Save me fwom this qwazy nurse !
They thought me delusional
'Cause of things unusual
I was master of the dance
This guy Fudd's a basket case
He belongs here in this place
That is my official stance
Well, Wook who's calling the kettle
bwack
Talk about scwews woose
I've never seen such dewusions
dispwayed
You're weally one sick moose
I'm sure they all agwee with me
Though they're being wewwy quiet
A second opinion is what we need
Can anyone suppwy it?
Get all the opinions you want E. Fudd
Though you might have to wait and see
Unless you're schizophrenic
"Bud"
It's just you and Cratchit and me
Now I know you're cwazy doc.
There's more than that in here
I saw your alter ego
And I found somebody's ear
Fudd since you're a new recruit
I'll explain this just one Thyme
The only ones that are in here
Communicate in rhyme
The others are just visiting
They haven't been committed
So quit your fussing and fidgeting
While we get this jacket fitted
He does so have to shoot me now!
So shoot
me now!... Crachet Season is now
open...
Now if I could just find my damn crayons.
Haven't had much time to play since they
put me on hard labor, but soon. A great
read here Dr. Moose... and I liked that
hidden message... you must be getting
the good meds to write something
that creative.
I guess I got here Justin Thyme.
As usual, I'm late.
It seems the Doc is now schizoid
(Elmer Fudd, he ain't).
Hey, wacko Doc, I wewwy think
you're wewwy vewy stwange.
(HA HA, you talk like Elmer Fudd
because you are dewanged!)
Your personality has split
in several little facets!
But still I can't believe that you
are slamming ol' nurse Cratchet!
--------------
hehehe
Justin T.
aka Leonardo DaVinci
Justin Bed
That's a compwicated question
Does anyone weally know
We wear so many masks these days
Our twue selves warely show
Now wait a gosh darn minute Fudd
Who's the Doc in here
I hardly think you're qualified
I've studied this for years
You just showed up and already
You make with the free advice
You're cutting into my billing time
And that's not very nice
Well Wa-de-da-de-da
Don't have a conniption
I don't know about being a doctor
But as a poet you couldn't white
a pwescwiption
O.K. Fudd that cans it
Now we'll have to see
Who's the better poet
In open poetry three !
Andrew,
Meds are god's gifts to poets
Justin,
'Bout Thyme you got here, that Fudd's
been getting to be a real problem !
Hey, Moose, you've really lost it!
Your mind has is really wacked.
Your IP number's showing,
and it's the same, in fact,
as Mr. Fudd's, your nemesis,
your other nom de plume!
You're schizoid, widdle buddy,
you best go to your room!
When Cratchet finds that Fudd's
your clone,
she'll chase you with a hatchet!
This nurse ain't sane, you know
that, Moose,
she's a Paranoid Nurse Cratchet!
So, tell your wascally widdle Fudd
that he's a widdle woony!
And take your meds just like you
should,
or you'll STAY a cartoony!
signed in blood,
Justin Thyme
aka Leonardo DaVinci
Artiste Extraordinaire!
O.K. Justin but I'm warning you
You're just wasting your Thyme
I'll use wots of w's
And white a wonderful whyme
Walking thwew the woods one day
Having wost that wascally wabbit
A big dumb moose came stumbwing by
Twampwing evwything dag nabbit
Stoopid cwumsy big dumd moose
Ugwy and cwazy too
Pwactically wecked the whole darn
pwace
Dancing wike a fool
Onwy weason he's still awive, wost
his mind and can't wetrieve it
Cause cartoon guns don't kill
no-one, they just make-bewieve it!
What's up Doc? You letting Elmer
Fudd get the better
of you. You need to slip this
cartoon guy some of
ONE FLEW's meatloaf that will
quiet him for a spell.
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