A wild man foams at the mouth,
Running amok and rambling an unintelligible babble.
From the deep in the hills, he comes.
Emerging from his pupal stasis
Within a contrived cave of compacted dust, duff, and delusion-
Wherein he hath consumed a dubious concoction of deviant delights
(frequently found on the forest floor)-
Like Sübü’ätäi sans the company clout,
The sleepy little city of Weatherton.
Nestled among the rivers and valleys of the heartland, it sits,
Teeming with team and holy spirit, and always waiting
For something to happen.
But then a rabid fox roars out of his holler,
Insane with rage and strong as Neanderthal man-
Thanks in large part to the powers granted by magic potions-
To teach the timid townsfolk the true meaning of terror:
Rodney Ray, the Rowdy Recluse!
He offends the senses in every imaginable way:
Odiferous scents radiate from his festering form,
Shocking sights etch his sticky epidermis
With inklings of fascist and fundamentalist manifestos,
And psychotic sounds spurt from his maniacal mandible.
He drapes himself in a patchwork of death,
Primarily uncured possum hide sown with the shaved and stripped tails of coypu.
His cloak of coonskin flows behind him as he frolics
Frantically out of the forest and into the long-forgotten ‘scape
Of stillness and silence in suburbia.
The jaunt began jovially enough;
But then the mystical mash of herbs and fungus began to ferment in his bowels,
Soon making him boastful and belligerent and wicked,
And he frothed with fury at the world that whisked him out!
So, fly, the afflicted dog did!
Toward the twinkling lights of the town of Weather.
Cackling with newfound vim and vigor
And saturated with vicious voracity,
He honed in on the hamlet on the horizon…
Amongst the backstreets and alleyways, he slunk,
At first content with sneaking and peeking into the windows of snoozing
Patriarchs and matriarchs and folks of middling and younger mettle.
Yet, in-so-doing, his mind became inflamed! Invigorated,
With synapses streaming through his cerebellum and
The rest of the malformed matter resting upon his medulla,
He freaked and shrieked a shrill, long note as he watched
The restless rising and falling of the bountiful buxom,
Of old Mrs. Howard: the notorious town gossip!
As blood pooled in his loins,
Lights were raised; alarms were sounded.
The North-end neighborhood woke along with the widow through the window.
She screamed, strangely harmonizing with her suspect for a moment,
And leaped for her telephone, instantly dialing for help and
Satisfaction from armed forces and awakened friends.
Rodney reared back, befuddled by the reaction
From his usual cry of joy to his distant rodent companions:
Tim the Squirrel, and George the Beaver…
They’d always bark and beat back at him their own messages,
But they’d never bellowed out in the same tone as he.
So, the venomous canine, still fuming in confusion, fled yet again,
And his virus spread quickly through fiber optics and fibrous sinew!
His destination unclear and his ego and erecting parts engorged,
He ran, screaming down the street to find the long-lost
Feelings of companionship and closeness, left behind with his
Callous family and cruel friends a full generation ago.
Toward the town square he aimed his fervent ambling,
Following the city glow with a weird stride of preposterous purpose.
Pheromones flooded his olfactory glands
As he reached the city center, and he traced the sinful scent,
Baying and biting at passersby and oblivious
To the more and more mountainous structures looming ahead,
And the attention drawn by a barbarian horde of one.
Elapsing old factories and tenements and hovels
Harbored and anchored by crumbling concrete and rusted steel,
He was engulfed by the intoxicating odor
Of feminine sex and sweat that compelled his course.
Upon sighting the sultry soul around the next corner,
He marveled at his Muse!
A lascivious lump of lusty lard in latex and leather; by the name of Nemesis.
In a moment of focus, a forgotten flash of pigtails and poppies
Was pulled from his memory.
His cracked lips curled in a crazed yet sentimental grin,
And his hands wrenched a wreath of weeds and dirty roots from a rough sward.
Timidly and tenderly, he presented the plump princess
With his instinctual gift bouquet of bracken and bramble,
Underscored with the gentle thrusts and gyrations of intention
From the apparatus attached to the middle of his anatomy.
She spurned his surprise, staring daggers…
Enraged by the recollection and reprisal of childhood rejection,
Rowdy Rodney drew out his own jagged shiv and sliced her!
With frenzied slashing and stabbing motions,
He scraped the blade across blubber and bone.
The handy heirloom had been handed down
From his Great-Grandpappy.
He, the late guardian of the wayward ward,
Had wielded the implement in a series of impalements
Through several damned Yanks that dared cross Dixie!
Being that the duo was displaced from the dichotomous contest
By a congruent four-score of aforementioned fame
Held no bearing on the brow of a crazy old coot!
Nor did the demands of the fancy-talkin’ men from the bank and the draft board,
Who each departed Old Ray’s land with freshly acquired holes…
The wet-eared whippersnapper learned his Pappy’s tricks well,
And set to motion the spinning winds of calamity in the halcyon hub,
Starting with the slaughter of an unlucky ungulate.
Staring at his sacrifice under the light of the Hunter’s Moon,
Rodney howled his final curse to state and Sovereign
And the society of sinners from which his ingrained evil had sprung…
Blood boiling under the burden of grief and grievance,
The baleful jackal galloped into the night!
His edge hungered and he sated its cravings
With carvings in the sanguine flesh of frightened villagers;
The vile viscera it left in seeping wounds congealed,
And infected the unfortunate with dormant diseases of dire consequence.
Under his onslaught-
His merciless march of madness across the metropolis-
All were enemies and each was equally guilty!
Among the recipients of his wrath, first came the phallic cult,
Complete with caveats of conformity to fraternal tradition.
The recluse routed them into their half-way house between world and wonder,
Cornering them after cutting through the tender tendons
Keeping their pompous patrons tall and kingly.
Forget pride: a severed foot comes before the fall!
Losing patience and interest with the protestations of
The prepubescent sheep clad in wolf-skins,
The pestilent cur pounced upon proximate victims,
Varying in size and shape and consistency.
Where there were women walking and talking, they were groped and ogled
And nearly taken in rapacious reverie by Rodney Ray.
But churlish chaps of brutish demeanor found his presence unpleasant,
Especially within arm’s reach of their pretty young wives,
And hurled him headlong into the street
Where he met more malcontents encased in honking metal.
Having lost his hand-scythe in the manhandling,
The grim recluse resorted to fisticuffs and fire!
Smashing through glass, he apprehended his new aggressors,
Beating and berating them until their cries of anguish
Forced retreat from reinforcements and
Called up the cavalry to enact retribution.
Sirens swirling in the distance, he swept behind
The main strip and skulked into the alley posterior
To the carnage he’d very recently caused.
There he found a vagrant, snoring vociferously within his hobo-nest.
Kicking the man, he demanded in half-dead languages,
The bottle of liquor clutched to his chest,
And the fume-spewing lighter he kept in his pocket.
Assaulting the transient tramp after his acquiescent actions,
Rodney further ripped his rags and commenced
Creation of a combustible cocktail.
Breaching the barrier between flashing lights and freedom,
He entered the capitol axis of the capital, and climbed,
Rung by rung to the summit of the central authority shepherding the city.
He dropped his chemical container behind him and barred the door,
Preventing his pursuers from having their hour of glory…
The inferno consumed the construction,
Burning to cinders its terrible clutch of currency and corruption on the town.
Finding solace in the snarling of the hounds below,
And the buzzing twirl of whirly-hornets above
Who cast their focusing lenses upon him without stinging,
He sang his joy,
Soaring over the precipice to peace and prosperity!
And in the light of the rising sun,
With the melting of wax and falling of feathers,
Rodney Ray, the Righteous Recluse,
Made rendezvous with doom and renounced the diabolical denizens of Weatherton!