The Botox Gremlins

Have you ever wondered what makes your feet ache after a day out at a museum? Contrary to popular belief, it's not quite what it seems...
Written for the Sci-Fi competition (Poetry).
I hope this counts as a Sci-Fi poem - it's not fantasy, honest! They're from another dimension and everything!

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1. The Botox Gremlins

Standing in the museum

Looking at all the ancient relics,

Feet begin to hurt

From your ankles to your pelvis.

Blame it on the fact you’ve been standing still for hours -

Never ever realise that in fact it’s caused by:

 

The Botox Gremlins driving in their car:

You’re doomed to disaster

Right before the start -

They sneak up behind all the unsuspecting citizens

With a hypodermic syringe

Filled with something that isn’t medicine

 

They always get the dosage

Just, just right

So your ankles and spine are hurting out of sight -

The pieces in the museum sure are fascinating

But unlike these creatures they aren’t so calculating.

Gremlins want to cause you pain and untold misery

In museums, malls and modern art galleries

Blame it on the fact you’ve been standing still for hours

Never ever realise that in fact it’s caused by:

 

The Botox Gremlins jumping out their portal

The museum curator

Never thought they were immortal

When she let them in as ‘Apprenticed Plumbers’

To inject the ventilation

With something that isn’t medicine

 

“How do we kill them?” You ask

“Let’s take up arms”

Well they’re very very good at getting out of harm’s

Way the little buggers – they know when to stop -

Their getaway car is an inch from the bottom to the top.

Blasting off into hyperspace before you could have

Tried to squish them

(they’re not very big – that’s how they’re in the ventilation)

Blame it on the fact you’ve been standing still for hours

Never ever realise that in fact it’s caused by:

 

The Botox Gremlins – and they’re getting away!

The cheeky little buggers never tend to stay -

They go off back to their own dimension

To celebrate another good day’s work

Of frustrating intervention.

 

You know that sound of squeaky shoes on the floor?

That’s you squishing them so that they are no more.

When in fact you thought it was the cleaner

It’s you treading on them under their invisibility cloaker

They’re only immortal to a certain degree

They can’t survive without legs or arms, you see

They thrive on the misery of human beings -

The horrid little things don’t seem to have feelings

Blame it on the fact you’ve been standing still for hours

Never ever realise that in fact it’s caused by:

 

The Botox Gremlins driving in their car

Despite hanging around in exhibitions they have no appreciation for art

They think themselves artists in their own right

While you’re stretching your shoulders they’re snickering out of sight

You turn and look –

And the Botox Gremlins

Vanish out of sight.

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