It was hard for the others in the drawing room to keep from laughing aloud at Edgar Poe’s expression…

Poe sat stunned, silent for a moment, as the horror occasioned by the realization of his error’s sheer enormity slowly sank in. Worst of all, it was too late to rectify as the poem had already been published.

At last Poe spoke, slowly, to himself, in a reproachful coarse whisper. “The parrot is the species which talks…”

And so began his slow descent into alcoholism, drug abuse, and madness…

Have fun — Steve

Copyright 2011, Steven A. Lopez. All rights reserved.

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