APPLESAUCE

APPLESAUCE
Michael Keshigian

On the seventh day
there really was no rest.
It was the serpent
who approached God
with an apple,
crushed it with his powerful abs.
“Applesauce,” he muttered,
but God told him to keep it to himself.
The snake curled into a question mark,
slithered over to Eve
who rubbed it all over her body,
called over Adam
who licked off every tasty drop
but left Eve panting.
“Don’t go,” she cried, but Adam
had a shelter to build.
The serpent snickered
until Eve grabbed him
and showed him a wild time.
God told Adam,
who despondent at the news,
tried to hang himself
with a vine in the garden.
The serpent attempted to explain,
but the sauce
and Eve’s choke hold
gagged his syllables.
Eve, finally satisfied,
started stomping on the snake.
Now every time the snake shows up,
she winks at him
until Adam smashes it with a club.
God is pleased,
though everything still goes to hell.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.