The Unwelcome Houseguest...

We have been in our new house for one week.

While I would like to gush and go on about 

how wonderful it has been,

I can not.

For the day our pods arrived in the driveway,

Mr. Malady

decided he would like to move in also.

Mr. Malady is a boorish and crass fellow.

He is unpleasant and pushy and rude.

Mr. Malady is your crazy Uncle (once removed)

who ruins Thanksgiving dinner.

Mr. Malady is "that guy"

who kindly gets escorted from the restaurant 

for being far too boisterous.

Mr. Malady is a ne'er do well

who likes to do the lame finger guns thing.

I do not like Mr. Malady's personality.

Mr. Malady arrived with lots of luggage in tow.

Not those pretty bags with LV's embossed about the leather,

or those savvy samsonite vintage types 

in mustard and red.

No, 

Mr. Malady came with

 tattered and torn satchels.

Totes that looked as if they had been long forgotten

 in the dank depths of baggage claim. 

Mr. Malady's bags were filled with 

fever, and aches, and pains.

Horrible things that TSA officials  

would never let through security.

I do not like Mr. Malady's parcels.

 Mr. Malady likes to be in charge.

He didn't take kindly to Mr. Nyquil, or Mrs. Tylenol.

He scoffed in their faces.

He triumphed in their inabilities. 

I do not like Mr. Malady's arrogance.

Mr. Malady pretended he didn't hear me 

when I asked him politely to leave.  

He turned a deaf ear when

I told him it was time to pack his bags.

 Mr. Malady is now trying to influence my kids, 

oh no he di'int...

 I am a lover, not a fighter

but Mr. Malady has left me no choice.

I'm taking my earrings out

pulling my hair back

and greasing up my face

cuz it's on...

Pssssst...

My door is no longer open to you 

Mr. Malady.

So guess what?

 get to steppin...