CAVE

There ain’t no cave here.

You got the wrong address.

This here’s a mountain, mister.

I wouldn’t even know where to tell ya

to go lookin’ to find that hell hole of yours

‘cause I don’t know

the next thing about caves, see.

Even the word cave

don’t mean nothin’ to me.

It’s an empty word.

It echoes when you say it.

Cave. Cave. Cave.

See what I mean?

The sound only reminds me

of the faces, like your face,

that come sniffing ‘round

these parts every so often

asking me where the goddamn cave is.

You know, you all look a like.

Like inbreds.

I told all of them, like I’m telling you now,

I don’t know nothin’ about no caves.

Who sent ya, anyway?

Probably that troll down aways,

under the bridge,

who wants to rent a room.

Well you can tell that ugly little rat-trap,

there ain’t no vacancies

in this here mountain.

I am full up and rock solid, see.

Even the wind don’t blow through me.

Got it?

Now get!