● By Wendy Sipple
Illustration by John Stricker
It was a stormy night and raining
When the travelers’ car broke down.
Out where fields bristle with wheat,
Far from the nearest town.
He was a handsome young man:
Lean, tall and well-groomed.
She had eyes that were gentle and kind
And a smile that outshined the moon.
But on this night, the moon was
And so was mercy from Mother Nature.
“We’ve got to find someplace warm,” she said.
“Someplace we can shelter.”
“There was a farmhouse back, about a mile,”
He said with a rain-soaked grin.
“No reason to worry, come on let’s hurry…
I’m sure they will let us in.”
Off they went and in no time at all
The farmhouse’s door they reached.
But before his damp knuckles could knock,
It opened with a teeth-grinding screech.
“Hello?” he said, from out on the porch.
“Anyone home?” he asked before leaning in.
But all that replied were the creaks and the sighs
As the old home shook in the wind.
“Nobody’s home,” she said, “We should leave.”
“And drown out here in the rain?”
No let’s go inside; get warm, get dry
And should they come home we’ll
They found a stove and started a fire
Then dried themselves off with a towel.
They huddled together and soon they were better
As the storm continued to howl.
...How long they’d been sleeping he wasn’t quite sure
When a loud sound stirred open his eyes.
“Who’s there?” he called, and then saw in the hall
A man of incredible size.
The stranger’s chest was as wide as an oak
And though shadows hid most of his face,
It was instantly clear to both of them
That his soul was without grace.
“Please sir,” the young man stammered,
“We only came in to get dry.
Our car’s broken down...and the storm was so bad...”
The young woman just started to cry.
The stranger still loomed in the hallway,
Plainly in no mood to listen.
Then, terrifyingly seen in the firelight’s gleam
Was something in his hands that glistened.
But it did more than that, it revved and then roared
With a sound that petrifies trees.
It was a chainsaw he held, with a buzzing from hell,
Like a swarm of demonic bees.
He gunned the saw, and lifting it high,
Started walking towards our friends.
The young lovers froze, too frightened to move.
Was this it? Were they facing the end?
Who knows what makes people stand tall,
To find courage when all hope seems lost.
But together they leaped up quite quickly
And dashed from the house as though tossed.
Behind them the stranger did follow,
The saw growling like a woodsman’s guitar.
But back in the house, one thing was about
To keep him from getting too far.
You see, if you plan on dismemberment –
On cutting one’s parts into many –
There’s one thing you should always
One thing more important than any.
Don’t try to save money when rendering gore;
You cannot horrify on a budget.
Because you could screw it up, not do it right.
And when the big chance comes you’ll fudge it.
But these facts escaped our cruel stranger
And so too, did our young friends.
Because you’re instantly far less than scary
When your power source reaches its end.
That’s right, his extension cord popped out
From a socket inside on a wall,
Causing the buzz saw to lose power
‘Til soon it ceased buzzing at all.
The young lovers made it to safety,
And to this day he’ll still laugh with her
About that eve when they were able to flee
An electric chainsaw massacre.•
Catch Tom on the Pat and Tom Morning Show on New Country 105.1; or e-mail him at firstname.lastname@example.org.