August 13th, 2025 – twenty six plus years since awful series of unfortunate events

The following poem posted about a half hour before the bewitching hour that spelled calamity (which though a freaky Friday the thirteenth) did (nor does) not find me exceptionally superstitious, and rather than wait for the morrow, I feel so pent up with aggravation concerning chronic checking account issues linkedin to Citizens Bank a need for a healthy distraction finds me sharing a tragi-comic combination of contusions upon body electric of mine at that time a forty year old father of two young daughters.

Once again tis time to saddle ye dear reader and pony up, giddy-up and and trot out (absent neigh saying - without horsing around) an unforgettable day encompassing a series of unfortunate events (so take that Lemony Snicket! - yeah go ahead and picket and enlist Jiminy Cricket!).

Wicked bad day poem
originally crafted, designed, engineered...
then alternately titled
for no particular rhyme nor reason:
unwitting courtesy extended
to Doctor Donald (Duck) Dossey
who coined paraskevidekatriaphobia.

Bowed over in supine position
yours truly (me) did deign
upon the vagaries of ill fates
that did inextricable entwine
where superstitious phenomena
slammed like the dickens
and severely tested across fineline
doggedly gingerly jinxing luck of mine
August thirteenth nineteen hundred and ninety nine
forever etched in the annals of my personal infamy
as one still sending hair raising shivers down my spine
which following unpleasant details occurred on a street
that branched off kind of like a fork tine
adjacent to one named Woodbine.

Prior to the following awful events
that unfolded aforementioned day
somewhat solemn and gray
I did not consider myself unduly superstitious
nor prone to bouts of triskaidekaphobia/
paraskevidekatriaphobia no how no way.

Yet that particular Friday
the thirteenth baptized me
in the bloody waters of superstition unequivocally
whence upon waking said particular morning
the search for funereal garb found me
burrowing into a small closet
while bending on one wounded knee,
and nonchalantly rummaging
for suitable article of clothing to wear
(per the wake/
sitting shiva of William Zison
the octogenarian father in law)
an unbeknownst ill fate
lurked just seconds away
ready to cap cha an innocent prey
as any unseen observer
and/or pet would agree.

Hands rifled and rustled
thru various and sundry
miscellaneous items in one or another box
mostly clothing and other apparel
draped in coat hangers
plus a precariously perched
heavy tin of yarn heavy as rocks
began to teeter from top ledge,
than made a slow inexorable descent
in direct path of thy crown
containing valued mental stocks.

Unbeknownst to me Grim
the Reaper hoped to score
spelling my demise qua life or limb
the topmost part of thine skull
felt impact of sharp metallic rim
that left an indentation in soft part of scalp –
more’n an abrasive skim
and bent circular shape
of contrivance filled to the hilt
one law of physics pertaining
to falling object (taught to me)
acquires greater mass
accelerating with velocity and vim.

Upon reflexively yet tentatively
touching raw sore spot
fingertips revealed presence of warm liquid
soon coagulating into a pulpy gordian knot
from sharp lipped impact registering nausea
and vertigo quite a lot
hence sewing crafts managed to stitch
a tattooed laceration forming a bloody clot.

Body writhed with physical torment
as if being only partially alive
whereby waves of blacking
or passing out found me swooning
ready to take a swan dive
nonetheless from Schwenksville
to Penn Valley, I did
(by divine grace) safely drive
whence family members and relatives
once destination reached, the motley crue
began organized carpool arrangements
per heading off to the cemetery,
which caravan formation
similar to a human bee hive,
yours truly declined to go
communicating persistent distress from mishap
I bowed wowed out, stayed home
and kept company with a dog
(purportedly man’s best friend)
(said pet belonging to a friend
of eldest sister in law),
whose open palmed overtures
of mine did not jive.

An impulse found fingers reaching out
to stroke this unfamiliar animal
supposedly man’s best friend
only to find sharp teeth from canine jaw
clamped down hard on hand
which second bodily injury,
my mother affixed a butterfly bandage
to expedite the injury to mend,
I did immediately tend
nursing injuries inside
the time yours truly did spend
while bolts of white hot pain
shot thru lower extremity of palm
radiated upward through forearm
into shoulder did wend.