BY DAN VALENTI

The Long, Comical Poem of Mayor Lumpy, Bowtie Dumbwood, and Tom Slippery ScalesIn the topsy‑turvy town of Bitchfield, where logic rarely stays,
Mayor Lumpy rose each morning to invent new fiscal ways.
His hair was always sideways, his tie forever twisted wrong,
And his speeches sounded like a goose attempting to sing a song.But one fine day disaster struck—the city’s books went boom,
Exploding ink and numbers that filled the council room.
The ledgers curled like frightened cats, receipts began to hiss,
And Lumpy cried, “We need an audit! Something here’s amiss!”He summoned Treasurer Bowtie Dumbwood, sly as a raccoon thief,
A man whose bowtie drooped with guilt and moral disbelief.
“Bowtie,” Lumpy thundered, “Hire someone honest, sharp, and new!
A fresh auditor to fix these books before we’re all screwed through!”Bowtie nodded gravely—his version of deceit—
Then shuffled off to choose someone who’d keep things nice and neat.
But Bowtie’s definition of “new” was twisted, bent, and stale…
For he hired Tom Slippery Scales, the same old audit fail.Tom arrived with coffee stains and a calculator missing keys,
A briefcase full of coupons and a chronic tendency to wheeze.
“Gentlemen,” Tom announced, “I’ve audited this town for years.
I’ll audit it again today—no need for panic, tears, or fears.”The townsfolk groaned in agony, “Not him again, oh no!”
But Bowtie smiled his crooked smile, whispering, “Trust me—he’s a pro.”
Tom opened up the burning books, coughed once, then declared,
“These numbers look fantastic!” though he hadn’t even cared.Page twelve burst into flames; page nine tried to flee the scene.
Page twenty sprouted legs and ran straight toward the canteen.
Yet Tom insisted, “Perfect work! The math is clean and tight!”
While Bowtie nodded proudly like he’d done something right.Mayor Lumpy strutted forward, chest puffed like a rooster king,
Announcing, “Bitchfield’s budget is restored! Let the church bells ring!”
But the townsfolk muttered angrily, “This audit is a sham.
Tom Slippery Scales couldn’t count a single pound of ham.”Soon chaos ruled the city:
The fountain spit out IOUs instead of water flow,
The library charged late fees for returning books too slow,
The fire department hoses sprayed confetti in the air,
And the tax office fined residents for “breathing local air.”Lumpy called a meeting, Bowtie brought a fresh bowtie (still askew),
Tom arrived with jelly donuts and declared, “I’ll audit something new!”
But when Tom opened the ledger, a monstrous creature burst—
A Ledger Beast of numbers, debts, and overdue fees cursed.It roared, “YOUR ACCOUNTING IS A CRIME AGAINST ALL MATH!”
Tom fainted instantly; Bowtie nearly lost his path.
Lumpy tried to bribe the beast with snacks and soda pop,
But the creature snarled, “Hire someone competent—or I’ll never stop!”Just then Mildred from the library stepped forth with quiet grace,
Adjusted her glasses, cracked her knuckles, took her place.
She balanced every ledger page in fourteen minutes flat,
The Ledger Beast bowed deeply, then vanished with a splat.Tom woke up confused, Bowtie claimed he saved the day,
Lumpy declared victory in his usual clueless way.
And Bitchfield cheered, relieved at last the crisis had been tamed—
Though everyone agreed the town’s leaders should be retrained.Still, Bowtie hires Tom each year, Lumpy signs off with pride,
And the townsfolk brace for chaos every fiscal season’s tide.
For in Bitchfield’s strange government, one truth forever prevails—
When Bowtie picks an auditor, Tom Slippery Scales never fails…
To fail.