Sleep beckons
But I cannot oblige
Thoughts stirring
Lips moving
Trying
To sing myself to sleep
Light and sound
Explode before me
I squint my eyes
Unsure
How the giant screen
Materialized before me
I gaze at yellow and black shapes
Until I realize
I’m starting at someone’s teeth.
I hope you’ve come to play
Cause I’m itchin’
For a little action
He licks his chapped lips
Spiders scurry
Across the screen
Giant pimples
Traversing the craters
In his face
You know the rules
But some numbnut
Always forces me
To go over them again
For your own safety
I’ll play along
Just don’t make me
Repeat myself
Bidding starts at 1,000 credits
But if you don’t have enough
Leave now
Or I’ll feed you to the spiders
One bid per round
Everyone
Gets a chance to bid
Bids cannot be retracted
Your word is your oath
Break that oath
And you too
Will see the inside
Of my spiders
Today’s inventory
Is classified
Into three grades
The bottom rung
Is comprised of fodder
For your hungry beasts
Midgrade companions
Are ready and willing
To cater to your every need
Just don’t be put off
By the lack of conversation
And Grade-A disciples
Can be programmed
For combat
Espionage
Even assassinations
All who come
May not leave
Empty-handed
That is the price
Of admission
All subjects
Are available
For a test drive
Especially
The companion class
But not the fodder
Let’s get those low-grade termites
Out of the way first
Shall we
The screen divides into a grid
Twenty across
By ten down
Damaged souls
Mumbling to themselves
Mostly women
A few children
Twitching
Banging their heads
Against walls
Pacing in circles
Until they collapse
Semi-cognizant
But not lost to the fog
Many
Not unlike me
In the past
We’ve done this piecemeal
He continues
And every time I do
I get screwed
So let’s get this over quickly
Besides
I’m in a generous mood
The screen switches to his wide grin
This is my handyman special
The only thing
Less than 1,000 credits
In this human scrapheap
Bidding starts at 250
But don’t push your luck
They’re not worth 250
Comes a voice
With a slight accent
A window opens onscreen
Black shades
Over pale skin
His cruel past
Inscribed across his face
His hair is white
Though he’s still young
This dark rock
Aging us faster
Each day
That’s nearly a credit a head
My captor protests
You can’t find
That kind of bargain
Anywhere else
Wressen
You English
Always like
To stick it to us
Americans
Just look
How you stuck it to us
Creeley
His face is impassive
Emotionless
I’ll give you 250
Just to shut you up
And another 50
If you do something
About those teeth
Any other takers?
Seven more windows open
Each member declining
Sold!
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