Young Tompkins is a little boy of eight,
who sports a red and blue propellor cap,
a fair young sprout with skin akin to milk,
imagination active as can be.
He sits in peace upon his bedroom floor,
while playing with his marbles and toy trains,
enveloped in the wonder of his youth,
he listens to his Mum & Daddy scream.
"Don't make me fucking smack you, Eloise!"
yells Daddy from the kitchen in a rage,
"You call yourself a man, you flacid pig?"
retorts his mum as dishes fall and crash.
Now Little Tompkins starts to hum and sing,
a hymn from school that he could ne'er forget,
of Jesus and forgiveness in rebirth,
and happiness for every man on earth.
The volume of the yelling elevates,
and Tompkins puts his fingers in his ears,
he tries to halt the twitching of his eye,
then all a'sudden calls to mind the slug.
He saunters to his closet in a daze,
then opens up the door to fetch the box,
and once returned to sitting on the floor,
he carefully removes its wooden lid.
He gazes at the garden slug inside,
the which he found in Mummy's planter box,
they often nibble on her daffodils,
and Tompkins loves to catch them unaware.
He reaches underneath his tiny bed,
to seize the shaker filled with table salt,
and sprinkles then a palmful in his hand,
while tears of sim'lar salt form in his eyes.
"Alright, that's it, you've driven me to this!"
He sifts the salt and pours it on the slug,
"I'm sorry, Eloise, put down the gun!"
the slug emits a tortured, noiseless scream.
He smiles in wonder at the shriv'ling beast,
then giggles while he fights to hold back tears,
a gunshot echoes through the floor below,
and Tompkins, box in hand, departs his room.
He daintily descends the wooden stairs,
then walks into the kitchen with the box,
to show his bleeding Dad and frightened Mum:
"I salted this for both of you to see."
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