by Mike Sharov
Are you a cook? Neither am I.
When dinner comes I only sigh,
Wake up the phone and his book
And let somebody be my cook.
A pizza is a trusty meal,
A color frantic tasty wheel.
It disappears in your friends
And lets the party never end.
But cooking is a tempting craft
And gazing down the oven's shaft
I start to wonder if I can
Create a dinner in a pan.
The cooking magic I will work!
No more I'll be a takeout dork!
I'll prove the world what I can be!
I'll make a meal for you and me.
Into the kitchen with brave strides
I walk like wolf, who danger bides.
And looking back to high school days
I recollect my mother's ways.
Spaghetti? Oh, that sounds good!
I grab the package where I stood.
Potatoes I shall add to that.
They'll make it better, so I bet.
My mother always said to add
the veggies, but they make me mad.
To top it off I think I'll put
some oil in (I heard I should)
I say a prayer, turn the knob,
And a blue flame begins to sob.
It's magic, that's why it's so blue.
It makes my tasty dinner stew.
It starts to boil soon enough,
And bubbles make the oil rough.
And lo-'n-behold it starts to burn
Just when it knows my back is turned.
I quickly knew something was wrong
When my stew's smell became too strong.
But no fear, my dear friends,
God blessed me with intelligence.
All fires are quenched by water thrown,
That's one sure thing I've always known.
So thinking quick I pour some in
And see a frightening thing begin.
A fiery face came to my eyes,
It must be Satan in disguise!
It grabbed the stove in fire's grasp!
Behind I heard a frightened gasp.
What happened next I won't describe,
But threaten death, or give a bribe,
Or loose a lion in my den.
But never shall I cook again!!!