The Story Behind Chubby's Crematorium and Burger Bar

 People have been asking me about the title of my book; Chubby's Crematorium and Burger bar. Well, here is the answer plus the poem in full. Each of the fourteen main poems in the book is introduced with the story behind it. This is Chubby's Story.

This bit of nonsense was written for Aalst Magazine back in 2001. The magazine launched an international poetry competition, and it was one of those where you were given the title and left to get on with it. The fact that it won the Shoestring Award for best poem, I can only put down to the guess that I was the only one daft enough to write a poem entitled Chubby's Crematorium and Burger Bar.

Chubby's Crematorium and Burger Bar

The night was young, the moonlight shone

As I stood beneath the stars

And the smell of freshly roasted flesh

Wafted out from Chubby`s

Burger Bar

I drifted past the ash filled urns

And flowers `In memoria`

And other such respectful things

One finds at crematoria

I`d been there once before you see

Albeit in a different guise

In fact, it was quite recently

Just after my demise

I didn`t know of Chubby`s scam

Hadn`t figured the connection

Between his crematorium

And all-night food concession

But being dead gives one an edge

And heightens one`s perception

And the anger welled inside me

As I considered his deception

The urns I passed contained remains

Of people`s bones and ash

But Chubby kept the fleshy bits

To serve with chips or mash

I didn`t live my life on earth

A good and honest worker

To end up in a shish kebab

Nor in a megaburger

And so, I`d come to settle scores

It got a little grubby

I`m sorry friend, it had to be

I had to kill off Chubby

I took him by his greasy hair

He began to make excuses

So, I boiled him in last night`s fat

And stewed him in his juices

But that is all behind me now

And Chubs and I are partners

Dispensing all night take-aways

Up here in the hereafter

There may not be much substance

To our nouvelle haute cuisine

But ghosts eat very little

And they hate to cause a scene

The reason for their patronage

If only in a wry sense:

Next week we`re opening a bar

When we get our spirit license

Shoestring Award Winner 1st Place Aalst Magazine Dec 2001

Kindle edition  £1.99

 Paperback edition £4.99