The apartment was brilliantly pristine,
Not a dust mite to be found,
Until the Poetry Bastards moved in,
Parties would soon abound.
Night Owl commandeered the cellar,
Making an improvement or two,
He needed lots of coll, dark space,
For his nuclear home brew.
AriaMech lended much needed sanity,
She was oh so stable,
Until she had a few Bastard Beers,
And began dancing on the table.
Dan lended us his worldly self,
And his culinary skill,
he could pour pretzels into a bowl,
And his French Fries could kill!
Doom loved to visit often also,
With her wit and charm,
She contributed to many spirited discussions,
Pointy Stick under her arm.
Lerk couldn't partake in any alcohol,
he often fell asleep instead,
We just got a floral lampshade out,
And put it on his head.
ShadowDancer was a party favourite,
Waxing lyrical with exquisite verse,
His poetic creations astounded all,
From topics banal to perverse.
Buffy was frequently on hand too,
Not drinking - too young I fear,
But if the party started dying down,
She's give an encouraging cheer.
But the time arrived for the big clean up,
Sad faces worn by all,
It looked like some circus scene,
perhaps an elephant's stall.
There were stains on just about everything,
Nothing had been spared,
No-one had bothered to clean up,
Or rather, no-one dared.
It was thought a badger was in the fridge,
It would provide a difficult grapple,
But it was really quite harmless,
An old and mouldy apple.
But the task proved far too difficult,
In the walls we were hemmed,
So, we just ran screaming from the place,
And it was condemned.                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz