ODE TO A MUFFIN

Oh, muffin.

How thou art the epitome of deliciousness.

With thine gently burnt crust pressed against

The soft interior of thine form.

I hold thou in mine hand,

Tenderly clutching thine bottom wrapping,

With gentle movement I unwrap thee,

And take a bite.

A man steps up to me and shouts;

"WHAT THE @#%$ HAVE YOU DONE?!"

Bewildered I stare.

A crumb tumbles from my mouth.

"MURDERER!" shouts the man,

"THOU HATH MURDERED A SWEET MUFFIN!"

"Of course, you jest, kind sir." I say,

Mouth full of muffin.

"This is not murder, it is simply edible."

I brought out another muffin;

"Here. Take a bite."

The man eyed me suspiciously then put it in his lips,

Then he smiled and begged my forgiveness.

I told him;

"Too late. You have upset me. So I laced that there muffin with poison."

The man was going to shout, to scream, or to wail,

But words could not pass through is throat,

For the muffin had killed him.

And I smiled.

Oh, muffin.

How thou art the epitome of deliciousness.

With thine gently burnt crust pressed again

The soft interior of thine form.

I stepped over the body and walked slowly away,

Never turning back even once.

And the muffin,

Beautiful muffin,

Thou taste good.

- Excerpt from "The Muffin of Death", by William Shakespeare, Written in 2004