Last Wednesday

“I'm feeling off balance” he said out loud
As he hops his way to the loo
"But I'm getting things done, I'm making my way,
I'm really doing the do".

But clenching his head and buttocks so tight
The throbbing starting to rise
There’s no way today he’s taking the cake
He’s not winning the prize

Last night was a good idea at the time
It seemed the right thing to do
She was cute, he seems to remember, and thinks
Was it one bottle or was it two?

There was giggling and pinching and winking and such
A flirt, a burp, a gasp
Sandals were slipped, more wine was drunk
A little pinch on the arse

Home time rolls round and the world intrudes,
The rain comes down anew
Cabs are scarce, his shirt is wet
What the hell is he supposed to do

“I’ll just wait it out in this little pub.”
What harm can come from that?
It’s warm and dry and smells alright
Actually, better than his flat

The barman appears at his own sweet pace
Pushing his eye patch in place
A brassy old blond follows him out
Wiping something off her face

“What’ll ya have mate, what’s your main treat?”
He grumbles through his beard
“I can give you a pint of plasma that’s chilled”
You’d think he’d find that weird

But the denizens at the pub of the damned
Don’t turn or care for his fate
It’s usual, it’s normal, for the business type
To drink before they donate

Having hopped his way to the bathroom again
A memory is slowly forming
That he’s arrived home with less in his pants,
He’s got less limbs this morning

Looking down at his flannys and slowly realising
It’s hard to balance whilst pissing
The leg of his PJs is swinging free
It appears one of his legs is missing

“Those bastards, those swine, those feckless thugs
They’ve taken what’s not rightly theirs
I’d go round there right now and beat them all up
If I could only get down the stairs"

Sitting on the couch and mulling over his fate
Decides to get the drop on the day
His PC fires up, and goes to his faves
The first thing he sees is ebay

And there it is, in the second hand listing
Too disgusting to be faced
“Used Left Leg, One Male Owner,
Good Condition, Never been raced”

“I can’t believe it what rotten luck,
Oh god, don’t make me beg
That the only limb for sale that day
Was an unwanted and hairy left leg”

“I’ve got one of those you thieving scum
If you had a right leg I’d be made
I should ring the owner at least and see
If they’re willing to make a trade.”