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The Corona Virus Effect

Bits Of Fun – By Phil Foo

How many days has it been,

Since the MCO* kicked in.

I’ve lost count of the days,

My brain is a foggy haze.


“I think I am going mental,”

That said I to the kettle.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

Said the stove on which it sat.


My fishing rods called out just now,

They kept asking when, why, and how.

I shouted back, “I do not know.”

“Just wait out the MCO*.”


Then my fishing reels began to scream,

My rods and reels are now a team.

“We need to fish,” they shouted back.

“Us too,” said the lures on the rack.


Now, my fishing lines just about had enough,

They did not talk but they are tough.

Made to handle monsters of the deep.

Off their spools they started to creep.


“Bring us now to the nearest lake,

Or it is your butt that we will kick.”

“Close the door and hold it tight,”

Shouted I to the ceiling light.


The fan then turned to look at me,

“I think you’ve gone a tad loony.”

The chairs and tables too agreed.

“this guy’s brain is really beat.”


I then crawled onto the sofa.

Sitting there, I gazed afar.

“Is it now time for your consultation?”

Comforting words from my television.


“I guess it is,” in a soft voice I quipped.

“Of course it is,” my alarm clock beeped.

“Can’t you see he’s going mad?”

“Damn you!” I shouted at the fishing net.


Suddenly my room started to spin.

I may be tough yet I turned green.

“Make it stop!” in a loud voice I shout.

“Make me,” replied the talking trout.


I clenched my fist, now ready to fight.

I threw a punch with all my might.

The ceiling blew wide open.

Up to the skies I flew with Ted the chicken.


“Hang on a minute. Can chickens fly?”

What a question, when you’re flying this high.

“Have you not seen us on trees?”

Asked Ted, looking displeased.


I kept dead silent throughout the journey.

As to not annoy this chickadee.

What’s worse than falling a thousand feet.

The impact of course; then your maker you’ll meet.


As we cruised through the great blue sky,

Taking in views from way up high,

“Alas you’ve come to your journey’s end.”

“Good bye for now my crazy friend.”


Cloud after cloud I speedily fell through,

Land is fast approaching, oh! What do I do?

I closed my eyes and held tight my head.

A heavy thud, could I be dead?


Doob Doob Doob my heart was racing.

My eyes popped open, I stared at the ceiling.

My bed was a mess, I must have hit hard.

Was it a dream, or did my spirit depart?


I got out of bed and looked out the window.

No one’s around, where did they all go?

“Oh, the lockdown,” I suddenly remembered.

I then felt sad for the dearly departed.


“We need to stay home because of the virus,’

I reminded myself as I pulled up my trousers.

The world has changed, the norm is ending.

With that I welcome you to a new beginning.

*MCO or Movement Control Order; an order by governments to control or limit the movement of people during the Corona Virus pandemic



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