Thursday, October 21, 2010

The Grumblegrouse

They say that it doesn't exist. They say that it is just an urban legend. But I know differently. I can say first hand that everything that is talked about in the corners in clipped and hushed tones is quite accurate. Quite accurate indeed. I must call out, beware the grumblegrouse my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! And yes, he most certainly came whiffling through the tulgey wood, burbling as he came!

The grumblegrouse is known to me. I can hear him from my office grumbling and grousing, swearing and pounding his desk snicker-snack! His words most vile, his tone harsh and uffish. And though I should know better, his high-pitched squeal and awkward turn of phrase leave me smirking. If only he could see what he has become. If he could sit by the Tumtum tree and think it out, he would use that vorpal blade and slay that grumblegrouse. O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

(With a tip of the hat to Lewis Carroll who helped me to gyre and gimble in the wabe. His famous take on nonsense verse in The Jabberwocky inspired this piece and my view of a constantly grumbling and grousing colleague.)