The Gatorade Bottle and the Cup

The Gatorade Bottle stared.

Stared with an intense stare,

At the blue cup beside it.

The cup looked at the bottle.

The bottle flushed red,

Turning away.

The cup giggled and nudged the bottle.

The bottle giggled and nudged back.

A new love was born.


The bottle flushed red

But in anger this time.

The cup flirted shamelessly with the

Evil whore dishwasher.

The bottle glared

As the door closed

And they were alone.

In the Dark.



The cup refused to answer.

The bottle continued to call

But no answer.

Feeling empty inside,

Tears rolling out of its cap.

The bottle thought of a plan.


The bottle stared at

The oven door.

The cake walking in to get a tan.

The bottle took a breath

And rolled down

And into the

Burning hot oven.


The cup stared at the

Burnt pieces of the

Beloved bottle.

The cup sighed and

Went into the dishwasher again.

Feeling nothing for the now

Deceased, dearly beloved,

Gatorade Bottle