397 – Bathtime Dreams

Poem Number 397
.
Bathtime Dreams
.
Dr No sat in the bath, his rubber duck in hand
And dreamed of secret islands, empires, ruling over land,
He dreamed of plots so dastardly that goverments would fall
To their knees and beg for mercy, lest he subjugate them all.
He dreamed of evil henchman dressed in boiler suits with zips,
All pulling pistol-lasers from the holsters on their hips.
He dreamed of secret agents sent to foil some evil plot
And of how he’d tell them everything, and not just have them shot.
All this he dreamed, and plenty more whilst sitting in his bath –
A thousand evil plans and schemes along his evil path
But then hark! A noise! It’s footsteps! Heading swiftly through his lair!
His dreams are cast aside, he shakes the bubbles from his hair
Is this it? Is this his end? They’re coming through the door…
… It’s his mother, come to dry him. Dr No is only four.

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