HORROR HOUSE OF THUMB by Mark McLaughlin
See that tiny baby-blue house
in the shadow of the catalpa tree?
It’s the one next to that dead oak
filled with spiderwebs.
That insidious little house of horrors –
that’s where Tom Thumb used to live.
That’s where he took his victims.
Being so small drove him mad –
as mad as a weensy hatter
sucking on an itsy-bitsy crack-pipe.
They say he tortured an
entire family of butterflies
in there – even the larvae!
Those poor, innocent caterpillars!
Folks say their pitiful screams
could be heard
from four inches away.
But Tom Thumb didn’t stop there.
That unholy micro-sadist
pulled the legs off grasshoppers
and used them to build
the framework of his ghastly bed!
For a mattress, he stole
a baby’s left sock and stuffed it
with the springy corpses
of all those dead caterpillars.
A monster, that’s what he was!
Right up until last week, when
he went to a big-people party
and drank a whole spoonful
of dark beer. He fell asleep
in an ashtray and was killed
when somebody put out a cigar
on his face. | 
