3-B was a proper
Lived by the rules - went
by the book,
No garish robes or bunny slippers,
Cared about the way she looked.
Her wardrobe plain, but in good taste,
And she dressed with pride each day,
She would not open her front door,
If one white hair had gone astray.
Pleasant, cheerful, mostly smiling,
Often she would nod and speak,
Her voice quiet, like a lady's,
Her manner gentle, always sweet.
She had a name; her mailbox showed it,
Though she was simply called 3-B,
That was her apartment number,
Apartment folks that way, you see.
A genteel, harmless lady,
3-B meant no one any ill,
She minded her own business,
And wished everyone good will.
But her quiet, peaceful life
Was now about to change,
For a new tenant had moved in,
Right above 3-B's domain.
A curmudgeon type of man,
With an outside like a bear,
But an inside sweet like syrup,
Although no one got in there.
Vigorous and robust,
A retired military man,
A devotee of exercise,
And rousing, marching bands.
3-C loved the music
Of the United States Marines,
And he played their marches every day
On his great CD machine.
Lots of treble, lots of bass
Which made 3-C's red blood flow,
As round and round the room he'd march,
And proudly shout, "GUNG-HO!"
Well, poor 3-B beneath 3-C
Was driven nearly wild,
The music and the loud Gung-Ho's
Were not the lady's style.
Night after night, day after day,
3-C would do his thing,
Until at last 3-B gave up.
And gave 3-C a ring.
"Hello, 3-C? This is 3-B,"
The timid lady said,
"Your music, sir, is very loud,
Are you trying to wake the dead?"
"Ahem," he replied, "So sorry,
I'll turn it down a bit,"
But underneath his breath, he said,
("I don't intend to quit.")
"Yes," she said, "And if you don't mind,
Would you please not stomp so loud."
"MADAM!" His dander was up!
And he spoke out loud and proud!
"Madam! Where's your spirit?
Have you no pride in the U S A?"
3-C roared into the phone,
And let his music play.
Aha! A confrontation!
He licked his lips and rubbed his palms,
Battle Station, General!
He flexed his muscles - showed his brawn.
"Oh, how uncouth! How brutal!"
3-B hung up her phone,
Was all her peace and quiet gone?
What was happening to her home?
She could call her landlord or the police,
But that would likely cause more trouble,
There ought to be a simpler way
To burst that old man's bubble.
Being the wise lady that she was,
She devised a simple plan,
And all next day she baked sweet cakes,
Her way to thwart the man.
Then that night when the music blared,
And 3-B's ceiling quaked,
She gathered up the goodies
That all day long she'd baked.
She placed them then outside his door,
And rang his bell and ran,
And all those home-cooked delicacies
Nearly overwhelmed the man.
So full he was, he couldn't move,
And he did not want loud music on,
He just dozed off in his comfy chair,
And slept straight through till dawn.
The next night 3-B did the same,
And 3-C reacted likewise,
The problem now was being resolved,
And 3-B felt so wise.
But one night 3-C caught 3-B,
With her goodies at his door,
He smiled at her, "Come in, my dear,"
Rough and gruff no more.
They partook of 3-B's pastries,
Then they marched around the room,
To the marches on 3-C's CD's,
Together, two by two.
A romance thence commenced,
'Twixt 3-B and 3-C,
And shortly they were known as
The lovebirds in 3-D.
More flies are caught with honey
Than with vinegar, they say,
And 3-B's story goes to show,
Even love is found that way.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright June 2004