The Day No One Died

Here’s the traditional Irish poem that I hang in my freezer to keep me from taking out more than six chicken fingers (I don’t really care how many fries I take out):

The day that no one died, was a day that no one cried
The day that no one cried, was a day that no one lied
The day that no one lied, was a day that no one sighed
The day that no one sighed, was a day we spent outside
The day we spent outside, was a day that no one flied
The day that no one flied, was a day that Owen tried
The day that Owen tried, was a day that Owen fried

He tried to fly over the corn oil pit
But fell right in as the oil spit
His skin crisped up all golden brown
While folks gathered around from all over town
He wanted to go to the other side
He wanted his mom and dad to cry
But he did not die and you know why
This was the day that no one died.

The real author is me and the main character, Owen, is based on a video game I tried to get off the ground called “Crispies”. Isn’t it odd the directions that art takes you?