🎶 “Electronic Emoji
is gonna be a sudden craze
is bound to be the very next phase
They call me Mellow Yellow
But quite rightly
my Muppet enemies
they all call me the Yellow Peril
So watch out Elmo!” 🎶
(The Ballad of Mr. Smiley Face)
A friendly lady gave Mr. Smiley Face
a ride from the beach on her Harley.
She dropped him off at a hotel not far.
He could tell it was a nice hotel, for it
had been given one lovely bright star 🌟
Mr. Smiley Face had been wondering
how to get by in such a materialistic
dimension, where things can be quite
sharp and hard. In his Uber Eats bag
lay the answer, a plastic credit card!
So Mr. Smiley Face booked into the
Devil’s Marbles Hotel, as the sun was
going down. He was happy that they
gave him a private room of his own.
Mr. Smiley Face turned on the telly
and watched an old Mae West movie
(Emojis find her extremely funny). But
after a busy day , he was very sleepy …
Within a dream, the alien stuffing
inside of him seemed to be moving,
transforming, as his smiley face began
spinning. With clumps of lumps arising
… and lumpy bits descending.
Through it all he could hear a rather
husky, and suspiciously falsetto, voice
sweetly singing . . .
🎶“And what I got’s all mine
But I could spare a little share
of what I got for you 💋
Come up and see me sometime 🙄
For this Little Miss Piggy 🐷
longs to sit on your Emoji
Time to play for a while
I’m a piggy in a big hurry
And my tail is all hot and curly
Come up and give me a smile 😁” 🎶
Mr. Smiley Face awoke with a start. He
reached for his phone to check the time
as it was still dark. 3:00 am on the dot.
The middle of the night. That dream had
given him such a fright. What did it
all mean? Did he have a thing for that
porcine puppet queen? A forbidden sin
(like a vegan eating a bacon sandwich)
against the laws of Emo-Jo, and nature.
Smiley placed his ying yangs on his face,
his 3-D prescription sunglasses, as he
does whenever he’s seeking an answer.
There suddenly appeared at the end of
the bed a blindingly bright light. Just
as well Mr. Smiley Face had put on his
shades, for he could just make out that
it was some winged creature, all glowing
white. Who spoke to him directly …
“Well, Mr. Smiley Face, you certainly
picked the wrong hotel to book into
tonight. Sorry for the lateness of the
hour. Hope I didn’t give you a fright.”
“No, that’s alright.”, Mr. Smiley Face
replied. It’s not as if he was lying. He was
just being polite. “Has Emo-Jo himself
sent you?”, Mr. Smiley Face enquired.
“Never heard of him. I’ve come to
oversee your rather unorthodox
transition into this third dimension.
I’m not here to answer questions,
so harken. I can see that to survive
this place you’ll need a good dose
of grace, a touch of what we call
a conscience, and a soul to keep.”
With those words the apparition reached
out a hand, and Mr. Smiley Face fell into
a deep and restfull sleep 😎💤
(Yes, normally 3-4 a.m. is the official
Witching Hour, but at The Devil’s
Marbles Hotel, it’s the complete reverse.
There it is known as the Blessed Hour.
Happy Hour is between 5 and 6 p. m.)
Mr. Smiley Face awoke the next day
feeling on top of the world 🌎 and
rearing to travel. So he checked out
of that accursed hotel, and purchased
a camel, on credit card. For in the great
Aussie outback, a drought is hitting hard.
Words & Images;
David B. Redpath © 2019