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by Richard Tornello


by Richard Tornello

A Mid Summer Nights Dinner Delight

By RdotTornello© 2014


The Village idiot Press





Dramatis Personae:

Granny Smith

Tomato Tommy

Ci Anti John

Toddy Wife



Act I


Below recount I, eye to you,

about a dream ‘peers more than true.

My dinner drink’s sweet concoction

caused a slumber here I’ve fashioned.

Caring not about your vote, I

the truth herein, do invoke.


Witnessed the court yard, moon hung low

Sultry mists a webs blocked glow.

In herein I repeat my site

For all your enjoyments’  delight:



Holding hands, arms thin as twigs

Dance they both to the gods and begged,

“Keeps us free from bugs and like

while we enjoy our life’s delights.”


And all around does Granny Smith

Entwined in love Tomato Tom

And watching closely Ci Anti John

Who has a crush as any a grape and

Can fermented love in a bottle stand.


Granny and Tommy pies they make

Their love’s an oven both they bake

One for main with bread and cheese;

the other, an after dinner please.




Ci Anti John should play apart.

Fermented love just needs a start.

While those two dance about

their fires pyre, bubble, boil and shout.


So he to glass their lips provide

what the nose and tongue let slide

down the throat and in the mind

the dull affect of his drugged wine.


Granny Smith a solid core

and Tom Tomato a slushy bore,

to Ci Anti asked and cried

“Please leave us be, we cause no harm

We dance around the fire warm.

Cooked just right, a true delight,

sprinkle cheese on both of us

What could be wrong? We’re just desserts.”


Up on a plate they pirouette

Spin the dough and let it set.

And to Tommy’s sliced red sweet guts

a blanket of cheese this body thus.


And Granny, sliced in the pan she bakes

no longer dancing feet she makes.

And here too, a crust so fine and thin

above and below her sugared skin.


Ci Anti hearing none of this,

his drug-made-brain a  harden’d  mess,

into the oven both he threw

and slur said he “good dinner’s food.”

He promptly gobbled up the two.


A fart forced from Ci Anti’s hips.

A smile crossed his wine soaked lips

And another bite he did par take.

“In my belly they dance and shake,”


Awoke I in a salty sweat,

from my dream’s dream I did forsake

not believing that awe full take

I searched realities welcome bite,

and to my left and my relief

was my sweet hotty totty wife.

A smile wide with  apple spice:

“I know you like the Granny Smith

cooked just tart and barely sliced.”

My totty wife, her bosom tight

her hips were bare ‘cept for light,

and upon whose body I did lay

all that evening danced this way.


Horizontal bopping is all I’ll state.

A gentleman should not relate

intimate details of pies and cake.

And with her love, I don’t forsake.


To end this tale of fruit and dance,

of dancing partners cooked, depanced,

taking bites of love pie here

and sliced bare apple over there,

while in between the best did lay,

dessert my friends?  I will not say.


The End



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by Richard Tornello

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