Mrs. Primrose Potter has

        a neighbour in for tea

       "My husband is possessed!"

        she quips, "Horticulturally."

       "How nice." says Mrs. Albacore,

       "but you've no garden plot?"

       “Oh, his garden’s in the cellar

      under lights and in a pot.

He’s cultivating, just for me,

a Valentine’s surprise!

Bertie’s always so romantic.”

Mrs. Primrose Potter sighs.

        Meanwhile, down the cellar

Bertie Potter to the maw

of one ghastly Venus Flytrap

holds a chicken fresh and raw.

It snaps its horrid thorny teeth!

He yanks that poultry back.

"I want you hungry!" Bertie grins,

"Tonight you'll have your snack!"

He bolts and locks the cellar door,

mimes, “Mew-ha-ha!” with glee. 

Then settles in with Primrose

and Mrs. Albacore for tea.

Across the moon that vile night

clouds scrape like ghostly claws

while downstairs in the cellar

Bertie's breaking serious laws.

That evil tuber smacks its lips

then opens up so wide

Bertie stuffs in Primrose Potter

waaay down deep inside!

The deed is done, Bert hits the sack

for a smug and blissful sleep.

He stretches out his arms and legs,

leaves laundry in a heap.

He’s feeling light as leaping lambs,

as free as soaring lark.

Till, stomach churning gurgles rise

up from that cellar dark!

From snore to floor that felon flies!

Yet, all is calm and still?

He lulls himself to sleep again,

and tasty dreams until...

Next morning's sun shines gleefully,

Bert’s singing in the shower,

while strolling in the dog park

stops twice to smell a flower.

But sleep did not stay that night

for like the night before

gurgles rise like ghosts up from

that wretched cellar floor!

As days now slip into weeks

Bert babbles dusk till dawn,

"Gurgle, murgle, murder, AHHH!

How long must this go on?"

He's lost near thirty pounds,

his mental state's in doubt.

He scares the postman half to death

the way his eyes bug out.

A neighbour finally calls the cops,

Bert’s pounding on his door

yelling words about digestion

and a haunted basement floor.

A swat team's now on the scene        

while cop dogs paw the hedge,

Bertie's just being hauled in from

an upstairs window ledge

Inspector Mule, in the cellar

holds shards of flower pot,

cleverly deducing where

Bert fertilized his evil plot.

"Just stop that hideous gurgle!

Before I flip my lid!

Just ask me if I did the crime?”

I did! I did! I DID!"

"That gurgle, gurgle, gurgling?"

asks first patrolman, Pat.

"That's back up on the sump pump,

you'll need a plumber in for that."