All the waters were overflowing,
Because of all the rain,
Rivers swelled and jumped their banks,
The dam—broken from the strain.
The townsfolk gathered bundles,
As the waters rose and rose,
People headed for the higher ground,
To escape the deadly flows.
But as they hauled possessions,
Up the ever-steeper land,
If the rain kept on—they knew,
They would perish by their own hand.
***
Years earlier, the mayor and the citizens,
Were sitting on the brink,
From factory closings and unemployment,
The town about to sink.
Desperate to save their homes and lives,
They went looking for a way,
To reinvigorate their economy,
And resolve their sad dismay.
A man responded to their search,
A scientist, no less,
Who promised their salvation,
And a rescue from distress.
Dr. Hammer had a recipe,
For a very secret sauce,
That governments around the globe would buy,
No matter what the cost.
He needed a site—remote,
And with a willing population,
To make his mystery brew,
With no fear of condemnation.
The City Council, Chamber of Commerce,
Church leaders, and the PTA,
Embraced Dr. Hammer’s offer,
With nothing bad to say.
The factory gears broke off their rust,
And the smokestacks began to billow,
While the workers looked the other way,
Lest they reflect on their peccadillo.
The dark deal was successful,
And the town began to thrive,
With Dr. Hammer at the helm,
Things hummed like a killer-bee hive.
He had his quirks, this doctor,
Was silent most of the time,
With bursts of furious anger,
If any stepped out of line.
“He’s a genius,” “He’s cantankerous,”
“He’s a complicated man,”
The townsfolks told themselves,
As he carried out his plan.
But the doctor became quite muddled,
Bordering on incoherence,
After the incident with wife,
And her mysterious disappearance.
The factory kept on humming,
And the townsfolk made a plan,
To remove the doctor from the place,
Inside a loony van.
But the doctor read an e-mail,
Accidentally sent from Personnel,
And learned the plan to send him,
To a permanent, padded cell.
The problem was that in the town,
Their factory was filled,
With a poison so terribly potent,
That just a drop would kill.
The waters reached the poison mill,
Death floated on the water,
With a murderous sheen of oily black,
Seeking lambs to quickly slaughter.
And still the rains kept pouring down,
The water—dead and sterile,
The townsfolk soon would meet their end,
Like fish stuck in a barrel.
“But wait,” someone cried out,
“There must be an antidote!”
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Hammer said,
The waters now a noxious moat.
“Where, oh where did you hide it?
This solution to our strife?”
“In the basement” replied the scientist
“In a freezer, with my wife.”
“But why did you do it?” the townsfolk asked,
“I grew weary of the view.”
The scientist narrowed his eyes and added,
“And I don’t much care for you.”
The poison waters touched some toes,
And people dropped like flies,
“At least you’ll die like the rest of us,”
The scientist smiled—a twinkle in his eyes.
He pulled a vial from his pocket,
Filled with some watery stuff,
“I brought a bit of antidote,”
“Not much, but just enough.”
“You cad! You creep!” the townsfolk cried,
And all were consumed that day,
Dr. Hammer smiled at the bobbing heads,
As he simply swam away.