A Freakish Escapade
Words and Music by Christopher White 


Nine o'clock on Thursday night,
The doorbell rings a tone.
I put down my martini,
And rise up from my throne.
Opening the front door,
I see a midget dancer.
I ask him what he's come for,
And then he gives an answer.
He says he can't count on me,
'Cause he always comes up short,
Then he tells me I'm invited,
To the Little People's Court.
Then he gently chuckles,
And slowly cracks his knuckles,
One-by-one,
And I know I'm in for a night of fun.

At 9:05 we're rambling,
On the boulevard.
I'm stumbling and I'm grumbling,
While The Midget chews his chard.
I ask him when we'll get there.
He says by quarter past.
But then we're intercepted,
By Fred the Pederast.
That devious child-lover,
Comes jousting with his cock,
Then takes a manhole cover,
And knocks me off my block.
When I awake it's 9:08,
I rise to meet my fate.
I gaze into the night,
But my midget's out of sight.

At 9:14 I'm running,
To catch the pedophile,
And save my friend The Midget,
From Freddie's horny smile.
I'm running fast as lightning,
But I quickly lose the scent.
I hold my belly panting,
And raise my voice to vent:
God, if you can hear me,
Please send me your aid!
Save my friend The Midget,
From this Freakish Escapade!
Then I fall down crying,
And as I'm down there lying,
An angel in blue,
Appears and asks what she can do.

At 9:16 she leads me,
To the villain's lair.
I gaze in through the window.
Freddie combs The Midget's hair.
The Midget is a-frowning,
While silently he squirms.
Then Freddie licks The Midget,
And pours a bucket full of worms.
But the Angel leads me forward,
And we grab that Freddie man.
Then we hold him by the ankles,
As he drowns in his own can.
The kicks and screams subside,
Freddie's spirit leaves his hide,
The Midget smiles at me,
'Cause he knows that now he's free.

The Angel gives a friendly wave,
And then she says goodbye,
And with my bosom buddy,
I hang Freddie up to dry.
At 9:22 we continue on our path,
To The Little People's Court,
Where we hope to take a bath,
The trip is uneventful,
No more pedophiles to see.
I smile at my midget,
We're as happy as can be,
But when we reach our destination,
We are filled with aggravation.
Holy shit ever-living!
The Court is closed for Thanksgiving.

The night had struck a downer,
The clocks were at 9:30,
The clothes worn by my midget and myself,
Were torn and dirty.
I wish I hadn't left behind,
The comfort of my home.
I'm missing my martini,
And my ticking metronome.
"My tears are filled with sorrow,
My back is filled with pain!
Why on Earth did I ever,
Step out into the rain!"
And then I get to thinking,
The night was so unfair!
This never would've happened,
If Seinfeld was on the air.


© Christopher White 2004

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