The Happy Coat

A mad, nonsense (in the Lewis Carroll sense) rhyming story I wrote
when bored at work a few months back. For any US readers who may not
have come across the phrase "Am Dram", it means Amateur Dramatics -
i.e. amateur theater.

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The Happy Coat

Pam the Am Dram fan who did plays about spam walked past a shop for
fops with chopped poptarts in the window. She sighed as she spied her
dyed hair (a colour shared with Cher and the hair bear bunch)
reflected in the window. She hated that her mate had over rated the
stuff when she stated she'd bought a crate if it.

She was feeling down, looking down at her brown shoes, which cost a
pound and made her feet bark like hounds. Then she saw a store with
more than she bargained for. A big coat with a note, on which was
wrote "Stoat lovers should gloat wearing this dead cheap coat". I love
stoats and weasels squealed Pam who's mind reeled at the deal.

She went in and binned the thin tin shinguard she was wearing and
spinned her yarn about farms, barns and stoats. She got the coat and
she did gloat like a boat with a new coat of paint. She was happy.

Time went by in units I can't rhyme and by the time she was in her
prime her mime act had got her sacked and the odds were stacked
against her. The fact was the coat she backed was lacking the knack to
help her crack a smile. So she sold the old coat, folded in a jelly
mould, to a bold soldier with a cold. He was Stan, a man with a Gran
who ran an african bran shop in Oman. His cold began when another man
sneezed on his flan and ran away. He was miffed that he'd felt iffy
and had sniffed and coughed for days. But the coat made him happy.

He loved his coat so much it shoved Doves off the number one spot
(second was crop tops on top popstars). His coat made him feel blest
and he tested how rested he would feel if he nested in bed in it. It
made him smile, feeling nine miles high but then he got piles.

Out of work and realising he'd been a berk he had to shirk the coat.
Thrown away, the coat swayed an amazed radio ham (who wrote plays
about spam) who was passing and was a massive bluegrass fan. As it was
Christmas he passed it off as a crass present for Cass, his last
girlfriend. She was depressed cause she'd messed up a dress in a
trouser press with excess pressure. She took the coat cause it looked
like one in a book. A crooked duke in this book had worn it to spook
his cook, who's cooking was puke, but died in a fluke hook accident.
Cass was happy.

Later, she dated and estate agent and his mate in a spate of dates she
hated. She wasn't well, she felt like hell and felt like she'd been
pelted by melted egg shells. She put the coat on Ebay, saying it was a
ray of light, in spite of the way she hated it. And there it stays to
this day waiting until they want it. Constantly reposted on Ebay for
days and days and days.

If you're sad or feeling bad because of some cad or lad you had the
hots for, this coat might make you happy. But not for long.