swimmy (swimmy) wrote in roy_inclingfilm,


Hello Roy in Clingfilm fans. I wrote this poem for my creative writing class, and I would like to share it. It is almost a story, but is structured after a strange song, so please like it now.

Roy Orbison in the Old West

In this fantasy Roy and I are pioneers, heading out to the west.

Roy and I drag a wagon train of pioneers
behind us. We want to find some gold and get rich.
There are six families here with us. Mine and Roy’s,
and a few other folks. My terrapin, Jetta, is
sitting pretty in the seat between Roy and me.

Whenever we happen across a dead cow or meat
that has not rotted yet, I wrap it up
with a roll of Clingfilm. I have a copious amount of the
stuff. Roy asks where I got it. I tell him,
“I’m a collector.” “Ah,” he responds. He may think it’s
weird but I really love my Clingfilm. The
way it shines in the moon - and occasionally the
sun, too. I want to try it on Roy. He
declines my kind offer. “I am not a rotting cow,”
he says. “Ah,” I respond. But my dream will
never leave me alone. Roy Orbison in Clingfilm…

I carry a gun on my hip for protection.
The west is dangerous. I may have to kill a
Rattlesnake or worse: a thief or a bad person.
But I have Jetta and Roy here, too, to help me.

One day, something most uncool happens to us.

It is in the middle of the
night and I hear scary noises.
I try to wake Jetta but she is too stubborn.
I grab my revolver and exit the wagon.
Someone’s wagon is on fire!
I rush to see the cause of it.
Indians have struck while we were asleep in our
tents! Someone must see if Roy is OK or not!
I run to his tent to see if
he has been hurt or not. Oh, God…
Roy Orbison lies before me, with an arrow
in his back. What can I do to stop the bleeding?

This can’t be real.
Those goddamned Indians!
What did we do?
We didn’t take their land.
We just traveled
to get gold. If this is…
No, it isn’t!
Roy, I won’t let you die!

The pioneers running about
in confusion is a sad sight.
I want to help them, but
my first duty is Roy.
When I get back to my
tent, Jetta is awake.
She is troubled by this as well.
She loves Roy the same as I do.
“Where’s the Clingfilm, girl?”
Jetta nods: it’s right there.

I run outside again only
to see before me
an Indian. I reach for my
revolver. Am I
fast enough to beat his knife? Draw…
I fear I’m too slow!

Jetta knocks him over!

At this time I shoot my pistol.
The Indian dies.
I rush to my friend’s side, remove
the arrow from him.
To stop the blood from flowing more
I Clingfilm the wound.

But I can’t just stop there. I wrap
his whole body up in Clingfilm.
I will not just save his life but
get to feel the best joy there is:
Roy Orbison is completely
wrapped in Clingfilm. The happiness
is unrivaled. “Ach, what are you
doing to me?” asks Roy.
I whisper: “You are completely
wrapped in Clingfilm. Oh what a nice
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"Jetta knocks him over!"