Day 132

Today's words:

Drum

Motel

Blonde

Conductor

Accountant

Card.

The man tapped on the drum

Outside his motel

Room as the blonde

Looked on. The orchestra conductor

Wished he'd listened to his parents and become an accountant.

He'd like to have CPA on his card.

The man had used a stolen credit card

To buy the drum

But the house accountant

Wasn't on to him yet. He still had a day or two at the motel,

His room next to the orchestra conductor

And the blonde.

Who was this blonde?

She'd paid with cash, not a card.

He and the conductor,

All checking in at the same time, he clutching his drum,

Had watched her pay for her motel

Room with cash, which the accountant

Readily accepted. He was pretty sharp, that accountant,

And he'd seen women like this blonde

Before. They all came to his motel.

Some paid with cash; some had a card.

He looked at the man with the drum

And the conductor.

He didn't say much. He supposed the conductor

Looked down on him, a lowly accountant.

If only he'd known the truth. The man set down his drum

As he watched the blonde

Take a card

From the desk and head for her motel

Room. "This motel

"Is a strange place," thought the conductor.

He, too, took a card,

And saying goodnight to the accountant,

He went out towards his room, following the blonde.

The man with the drum

Followed them both. All in that seedy motel run by an accountant:

The conductor, the blonde,

And, using a stolen credit card, the man with the drum.