part 8: pickled plum, buttered rum

“Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum�"”

 

“Shut up!”

 

I am fusterated.

“Can you just shut up?”

I ask

 

You laugh, smile

And I roll my eyes.

 

“No,” I say, “just no.

You’re giving me a headache.”

 

“it’s a german rhyme”

 

“you’re not even german!”

 

“What’s going on?” you ask

As I put down my pencil

And stare at the sky.

 

“limits,” I replied.

“limits. I can’t get this stupid problem.”

 

You laugh.

“I like how somehow,

Solving math problems

Helps you solve your’s.”

 

I am fustrated. I stay silent

 

“Well then,” you say,

taking my line

“we… all… look… like… we… feel...”

 

Nah. Really?

I can’t help it.

I get up, and run down the aisle

 

“Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum,”

You sing after me,

“Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum

Pickled plum, buttered rum�"”

 

“Nevermind.”

 

he smiles.

 

"never die," he corrects