"Owed To The 928"

In shadowy recesses
of dark caves
the Creature lurks...

Jaws, menacing,
and evil in which
morsels and scraps
of past frenzies
dangle upon jagged teeth
and waft to and fro
on the eddys reaching
the Deep.

It waits, timelessly,
patiently.

Lying low, fat, sleek.

Claws poised,
ready for the careless flick
of the next feathery treat.
The Last Invoice.

Womenfolk kept far away
while men
talk in hushed tones
and creep silently
when near its lair
made cold,
with a primal fear
and a dread of the
next encounter
with the folder
in the bottom drawer
marked ...

'928 RECEIPTS!'

jC