Don't Drink Bees

I’m tired of lone socks
When once there were pairs
And them having holes
That can’t be repaired.

There is never a match
When I need them,
But when I complained,
Mother cried, “We must feed him!”

Completely confounded,
I requested she explain.
She whispered to me,
“That dryer’s insane.”

“It demands protection dues
For jeans and delicates,
And if I don’t feed it socks
All our other clothes rip!”

I eyed my mother
With growing concern.
Seemed our crazy dryer
Was not alone

In having a screw loose.
I asked her to sit,
And hoped her malfunction
Wouldn’t be hard to fix,

“Let’s just get a new dryer,”
I suggested with calm.
Replacing that would be easier
Than replacing my mom.

“I wish it were that simple,”
She said while tears flowed.
“But our dryer’s the Don,
So what he says, it goes.

“His brand has been powerful
For so many years,
No repairman’s come close
To touching his gears.

“He controls the machines
All across our town,
‘Cause they owe him favors
For letting them stay around.

“And they pay him back
With a percentage of the take –
Socks, pants, and shirts –
Or their gears, he will break

“As a warning to
All other drying machines.
It seems to work
‘Cause our dryer reigns supreme.

“He hasn’t been challenged
In so many years.”

“Well, perhaps it’s time now
For switching gears!”
I suddenly yelled.
I had caught the fever.
Crazy or not,
That dryer was leaving!

“No!” my mother cried out.
“You’re my only child!
What’s a sock or two
Compared with your life?”

“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s the principle of the thing.
I can’t let an evil
Sock-stealing dryer win!

“If we let the socks go,
Where will it end?
With my favorite t-shirt?
With poly-cotton blends?

“Will we give up our right
To own shirts, pants, and ties
That are properly dried
Without changing the size?

“No, I say no!
And there’s no reason to fear
What’s the Don going to break
When I have no gears?”

“Yes, but he has
An entire load of your clothes.
He’s holding them hostage.
His door is stuck closed.”

This news added a wrinkle.
It made me stop to pause
For a moment of silence
For my dear, brave clothes,
Casualties to a higher cause.

And then it was time
To at last pull the plug
On the dryer’s days
Of being a sock-thieving thug.

But would you believe
That as I slowly approached,
The laundry room oozed
Forth slick, frothy soap?

Seems the washer
Was part of the dryer’s crew.
To defend myself,
I grabbed mop and broom.

With the mop, I dried
A path leading inside.
The last thing I needed
Was to slip and slide.

With the broom, I flipped
Up the washer’s top.
Then all on one side,
Eight jeans I dropped.

Unbalanced, that washer
Was quite agitated.
He twisted and thumped,
But was incapacitated.

With the washer distracted
And out of the fight,
I turned to the dryer,
But cried out in fright

As I spied my favorite t-shirt
Shredded and shrunk,
Worn as a battle flag
By that sock-stealing punk.

I couldn’t tear my eyes
Away from the casualty,
I knew that the drier
Thought it would make me flee,

But he didn’t count on my
Temper and rage.
For that concert t-shirt,
I had grossly overpaid.

I charged forth with my mop
And squeezed it out on his dials.
Then with the broom
I struck him on the side

Until I was able to
Dislodge his vent hose,
And while he was gasping,
I freed hostage clothes.

That crazy dryer might have
Hoped I was done,
When I refilled his lint tray,
Then hit the start button.

I ran as fast as I could,
Screamed at Mother “Get back!”
(She seemed happy to see me
With all my innards intact.)

We ran from the house
As that dryer exploded,
His gears raining down,
His power eroded,

And along with the parts,
So many nice clothes.
Our dryer’s loot
Was falling like snow,
If snow were composed
Of very nice clothes.

My mother caught a hat,
Saying, “We should return it.”
I snatched it away.
“No way! I earned it!”

“I deserve something
For defeating that beast.
They should be grateful
And give me a feast

“And all of these clothes
And some new ones too!
Without me protecting them,
What will they do?

“When the next dryer comes
And wants more than footwear?
They better pay up
If they want to be spared.”

My mother was stunned
By my heartless rant.
“But you’d be like the dryer.
You couldn’t. You can’t!”

“Oh Mother,” I said.
“Don’t look so nervous.
This is different.
I’m performing a service.”

“Just like the dryer,”
My mother scoffed.
“He dried our clothes
In exchange for some socks.

“Haven’t you learned anything?”
She asked as I thought.
“Yes,” I finally replied.
“I don’t need their old socks.”

She seemed relieved
But then I said, “I want bucks.
Coins are nice too.
Hey, this power corrupts.”