BEASTLY TALES

MALLET THERAPY

Dermot Titus was angry, his dander was up!
Nellie Bott had taken their loving cup,
And thrown it, hard, at Dermot’s head,
Any harder, and he would have been dead!

Dermot’s daily inertia was about to begin.
Inertia being considered quite a sin.
Of course, nothing wrong with being inert,
But it bodes well to be equally alert!
Dermot seemed out of touch, out of reach,
He seemed to be really lost for speech,
Known for taciturnity, saying little,
He would fail to respond, thus saving spittle.
Yes, lost for speech, that hit on the head,
All speech ideas have undoubtedly fled!
Aphasia, that’s what it was called,
Consequences dire, he felt most appalled.
It’s not that he wanted to be rude.
But he did certainly feel some decrepitude.

Now, Dermot Titus, to a therapist went,
He went on his own, not having been sent.
“So, young man, you find it hard to speak?”
“And, you’ve come, my professional services to seek?”
“Well, fear not, we’ll soon have you babbling,”
“For, into Aphasia, my research has been dabbling.”
“Please, kneel beside this couch,”
“Kneel with style, do not crouch!”
“I’ll just take this mallet of wood,”
“It’s only a small one, it should be understood,”
“And deftly dong you on the dome,”
“No stress at all, comforts of home.”

Dermot felt a resounding crack!
A spasm of pain assaulted his front and his back,
It proved a miracle, lo and Behold!
Now Dermot repeated all that he was told!