Which is in worst taste? A light-hearted poem about suicide? Or a light-hearted poem about patricide? Take your pick in today’s (not-quite-finished) Nanopowrimo entry:

Inevoedipal

MOTHER.
Son, where were you after school?
I ask because your dad's a fool:
He's shot himself, and wouldn't you know it
he didn't leave a note to show it.

SON.
I can't believe you'd even ask
if I did this bloody task.
Even though it takes a while
poisoning is more my style.

MOTHER.
Darling that's not what I meant!
I figured you were innocent.
Just let's agree it's not a lie
to be each other's alibi.

SON.
Of course, dear mother, I'll attest
that you were no where near our nest,
that we were on my paper route
when father blew his old brains out.

MOTHER.
As if I hadn't enough stress
your father's made an awful mess
by shooting himself without warning.
I haven't time this week for mourning!

SON.
I must admit it makes me sad
to hear about the death of dad.
By taking his life in his hands
he's spoil'd my own avenging plans.

MOTHER.
The only thing that is a bother
about the death of your poor father
is that he shot off half his face
and left me to clean up the place.

SON.
Many people often said
that they'd be glad to see dad dead.
They'll all be sorry when it's disclosed
that we must keep the casket closed.

MOTHER.
In retrospect I should have guessed
that your poor father was depressed.
If I had known he'd no endurance
I would have paid for more insurance.
/or/
If he had brought his woes to me
I would have raised his policy.

SON.
Here's another cause to fret
compounding on our family debt:
You know that mobster that I hired
to ensure that dad "retired"?
We're lucky that he didn't cause it
but will he refund my deposit?
/or/
Now that there's no one to whack
do you think I'll get my money back?

MOTHER.
If there's one thing I can't abide
about your father's suicide
it's that he took the easy route
before he took the garbage out.

SON.
Seeing father on the floor,
fingers round his forty-four...
at risk of being reprimanded
I have to ask: was dad left-handed?

Inspired, of course, by Harry Graham’s “Little Willies” (which are often too horrific even for me) this was baked in my fevered skull while I lay in bed most of the weekend.

T