Wednesday, August 15, 2007

The Story of Mou-Mou

Mou-Mou was a Hottentot, in Africa he dwelt,
He was the greatest hunter in the whole wide world, he felt.
His hearing powers were acute, as was his sense of smell,
Enabling him to take his pick of warthog and gazelle.

Once he crossed the prairie lands, to hunt the great white rhino,
He brought it home triumphantly and dumped it on the lino.
His wife surveyed it thoughtfully, and then she ventured, “He’s a
Little big to eat just now, I’ll put him in the freezer.”

Mou-Mou woke one morning in his compact wooden hut,
And, jumping lightly out of bed, he left behind his foot.
This was quite unnerving and he gave a little cough,
The force of which did cause his little finger to fall off.

To say that he was troubled was to put it rather mildly,
He hopped around in great distress, gesticulating wildly,
And, pulling back the bedclothes, he was horrified to find
Two kneecaps and an earhole and a piece of his behind.

His wife was fast asleep when the manure hit the fan,
But, waking up, she cried, “We’d better see the medicine man!”
The medicine man examined Mou-Mou, eyes awash with sorrow,
And said, “I’ll run some simple tests, so please come back tomorrow.”

Mou-Mou dutifully returned, just as the doctor said,
His nipples gone, his bulbous nostrils hanging by a thread.
His faithful wife was there as well to give her man support,
And also so that she could hear the medicine man’s report.

The doctor said, “Now, my old friend, please do not go to pieces,
I’ve looked into your urine and I’ve analysed your faeces.
I’m afraid that you’ve got leprosy, it’s in its early stages,
And, Mrs. Mou-Mou, please beware, it’s desperately contagious.”

When they got home, his loving wife got out the Mister Sheen,
And sprayed and polished everywhere that Mou-Mou’d ever been.
She threw the bedclothes out the back and threw them on the fire,
And then the contents of the wardrobe helped the flames fly higher.

She threw out all the cutlery, the dishes and the jugs,
Electric kettle, rhino horn and souvenir mugs.
Mou-Mou sat dejected in the middle of the floor,
As everything he’d ever owned went hurtling out the door.

Finally, he stood up, as she emptied out the room-
His stainless steel cooking pots, a family heirloom,
He said, “Just bleach them thoroughly, that should be quite sufficient.
They’re priceless in their value and remarkably efficient.”

“Efficient, pah!” his wife exclaimed, “They’re probably infected.”
She would have said a whole lot more but Mou-Mou interjected:
“If those pots go, then so do I, I don’t need to remind you!”
“Okay, my love,” the answer came, “And shut the door behind you!”

But then, dear friend, a happy end, for Mou-Mou did recover,
And took his pots along when he did move in with his lover.
So if you’re out in Africa and visit Hottentots,
Remember you can never make a leper change his pots.

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