Work Text:
The Upward Mobility Murders
By Gozer
When Uncle Nigel saw Aunt Ruth
With Billy-Bob, he knew the truth:
Her fancy’d turned to young Bill-Bob,
Soon Uncle Nige would lose his job.
For he’d succeeded Uncle Jim,
And soon Bill-Bob would supplant him.
No more late nights on Riviera;
His Rolls become a Ford Fiera;
His caviar and quails’ eggs, nipped—
He’d be cheeze-puffed, potato-chipped!
Armani suits, silk shirts and ties, gone—
Instead of cashmere, tacky nylon!
For Auntie Ruth had loads of cash,
But Nigel? None, an empty stash.
He’d signed a pre-nup, it was legal;
Yet Nigel held his head up, regal.
“Sweet little Alice,” pleaded he,
(Just so you know, Alice is me.)
“Should Aunt Ruth find eternal peace,
You’d always be my favorite niece!”
And so, Aunt Ruth and I drove off in
My red Honda, soon her coffin,
The CRX sank out of sight;
My alibi would be air-tight.
More air-tight than my car, I think,
As bubbles marked where it did sink.
I found my bike behind a tree
And pedaled off, quite ruthlessly.
“Why yes! Alice has been right here
With me all day,” said Uncle dear
To Chief Inspector Michael Mile
(He was quite cute, I dug his style.)
“In fact, Aunt Ruthie’s car broke down
She took my Honda into town.”
When Michael told us Ruth was dead,
I shed a tear, Nige hung his head.
That night, I poisoned Uncle “N”,
Arranged his corpse, took up a pen:
“I cannot live without my Ruth,
I took my life, and that’s the truth.”
For money shared is money lost,
Sometimes you kill, then count the cost
Of splitting an inheritance—
To keep it all made better sense.
The next day, Michael Mile returned
To share with me what he had learned:
Aunt Ruthie’s lungs were free of water,
So drowning’s not the thing that got her.
It seemed someone had bashed her head,
That’s how she had become quite dead.
Bike tire-tracks in the new-turned loam
Had led from there to here: to home!
I’ve learned my lesson here in jail,
Where I’ve been held, no hope of bail:
Cover your tracks when you ride a bike,
And don’t screw with Inspector Mike.