Dead Hotel
by Stephen Philip Druce
I was booked
to do a reading at The New York Poetry Festival,
and just happened to be staying in the same New
York Hotel as some of the world's most
accomplished and revered poets.
The prospect
of rubbing shoulders with these literary giants
was intoxicating.
I arrived at
the hotel reception desk and I noticed there was
a huge dead rhinoceros lying in front of the
reception desk. This was puzzling - why was it
there?. Surely the animal hadn't intended to book
a room for the night before collapsing in the
reception area. I just couldn't imagine a
rhinoceros in a hotel room - leaping about on the
bed, breaking all the mattress springs,
head butting the television because there was a
wildlife programme on about zebras, eating all
the curtains, shagging the lamp shade, calling
room service -
"greeeallumprangerzzzgrrr!"
(rhino)
"Good
evening sir, can I help you?" (room service)
"greeeallumprangerzzzgrr!"
(rhino)
"can you
repeat that sir?" (room service)
"greeeallumprangerzzzgrr!"
(rhino)
"I'm not
understanding all of what you are saying sir, if
you require an eight o'clock call go - "gggrrroolaeeemm"
(room service)
"gggrrrool"
(rhino)
"half of
that noise?, oh i see - half past eight?" (room
service)
""gggrrroolaeemmm"
(rhino)
"oh sorry
sir - you have a stutter ok, eight o'clock it is".
(room service)
The rhinoceros
was so big the only way I could get my room key
from the receptionist was by climbing through the
middle of the beast.
My agenda that
evening was to mingle in the hotel bar with some
of the world's finest poets - exchanging ideas,
discussing our mutual passion for literature over
a cocktail or two into the early hours. Instead
the New York Fire Brigade had to pull me through
the rhino's asshole with a rope.
The commotion
attracted every poet in the hotel. They guffawed
and mocked my excrutiating ordeal as I tried to
retain some dignity by making an announcement
combined with an impromptu poem - "ladies
and gentlemen, unfortunately I have lost a shoe
in the emergency rescue but it's so lovely to
meet you. I've got myself into a mess, and as I
stand here in a state of undress, I hope you will
understand, that I had planned on reciting some
poetry for you, but as you can see I am underwear
free. They vanished like my dreams - so you know
what that means. My writing career has finally
trickled away like water under a bridge,
especially as there's rhinoceros intestines all
over my love sausage".
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