Ned: Poetry? I thought it was ‘Puppetry for Beginners’.
Ed: Me, too, Bud!
Ned: I can’t do poetry.
Ed: And if you can’t do poetry, it’s a sure thing that I can’t.
Teacher: Well, Poetry it is, for Beginners it is, and about to start it is.
Ned: Are there ‘no’ puppetry classes?
Teacher: There’s not much call for them around here. There’s not much call for poetry, but just enough to run a class.
Ed: I think he needs poetry like he needs a hole in his head – like the one I’ve got.
Ned: Now come on, Ed, it was an honest mistake.
Ed: Like the time you locked me in the suitcase for three months while you had an ‘existential crisis!’
Ned: I came back for you, didn’t I?
Ed: Eventually! One could go crazy stuck in a suitcase for three months – I almost knew what Schrödinger’s cat must have felt like.
Ned: And how was that?
Ed: Bored stiff!
Teacher: Class starts in two minutes, shall I have the pleasure of your presence?
Ned: Not for me, I hate poetry.
Ed: I’ll give it a go.
Ned: Without me?
Ed: Well, I’ve always wanted to go it alone,
and poetry is something I could own,
you might not want in,
and that is no sin,
but my poetry I can hone.
Ned: Poetry for Dummies?
Ed: Yup! See you after class.
Ned: Good luck with it.
Ed: Thanks.
Ned leaves.
Teacher: Right, let’s get on with the lesson…
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Graeme Sandford 