Sir Richard Hedgeworth the Third
Lavishly bathes in
One of his 24-karat gold plated bathtubs.
Servants meticulously replenish
the lukewarm bath water,
Maintaining a Goldilocks temperature imprecisely.
Epsom salts and lavender in proportion,
To preserve his unblemished skin,
Unspoiled by a single day of hard labor.
A tray of strawberries sits on a gold table,
Chocolate dripping down his belly as his corpulent love handles bob,
Like a meatball in minestrone soup.
But baby shampoo gets in his eyes,
Sending him screaming like a big baby.
A sight to be unseen.
A large spoiled naked man stomping through his castle.
John Johnson is a writer from the suburbs of Washington, DC.