I shall now attempt my heartfelt rendition of the above moving song by Taylor Swift.
You Belong With Me
You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's a vet.
She's going off about her friend's cat, who's dead.
It's not a puma, but a normal domesticated animal.
It wasn’t natural causes, either, but inter-species murder.
(You fill me in on the details – they’re enough to make us lose our faith in the future of inter-species relationships.)
I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night.
I'm teasing centipedes from my nostrils with tweezers and a handheld dentist's light.
And she'll never know about your secret passion for Urdu.
But she kills your pets, or so I suspect.
She fakes accidents and makes up bizarre excuses,
Like saying that she had to take your cockatiel to a really good soothsayer she knows
Just to diagnose the illness of your manta ray that was driving you insane and was probably the result of untraceable poisoning of some kind, I suppose.
If you could see that I'm the one who funds the planned coup
To liberate the ibis, tapir and gnu
Then, naturally, you would see
You belong with me.
In a large tepee.
Walkin’ discreetly into a secret meeting and taking notes on the implications for our race of the case of the mutated semi-human beetles who began to take the reins in making their own form of subversive existential pornography,
I can’t help thinking this is how it’s meant to be.
Laughing at the dark stench rising from the rift in the basement –
Hey, isn’t this easy?
And you've got a smile that could frighten a psychotic clown.
I haven’t seen it in awhile, since she put your Alsatian down for no very good reason.
You say you found her the next day turning its ears into humorous ornaments on her hat.
Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that? It seems demeaning.
She wears waders, I wear Darth Vader’s cast offs.
She's a chaplain in her free time, and I'm also on my way to becoming a kind of lay preacher
And dreaming ‘bout the day when my congregation will by dint of your presence become that much deeper.
And you will look at me where I’m preaching like a demon creature endowed with preaching powers from the deepest depths of the secret texts of the slow worm’s equivalent to Nietzsche,
And be impressed.
If you could see that I'm the one who funds the planned coup
To liberate the ostrich, terrapin and pangolin
Then you will have an epiphany
And grasp the reality:
You belong with me,
Immediately.
Standin’ by, patiently fixing your broken boiler, and mending your taps.
All this time how could you not perceive that
You belong with me?
You belong with me.
Oh, I remember you driving a team of wild woodlice through the streets at night.
I'm the one who made sure those woodlice were in top condition for the woodlouse derby the very next day.
I gave them pedicures and enemas and polished their exoskeletal plates.
I’m pretty good with interior decorating, too.
Can't you see that I'm the one whose pun unmanned you?
Been here all along in a string vest and a thong, and yet, mysteriously, the message fails to get through.
You belong with me.
Standing by, patiently restoring your vast collection of baroque wind instruments
All this time how could you watch me at this task and still not sense
You belong with me?
You belong with me.
Have you ever bought a Gay Dad CD? Yes?
You belong with me.
You belong with me.
