The Beast that Stalked Vaudeville

Down in Vaudeville, the city of light

Where theater oft coincided with night

Toons and Toonettes danced so gayly

Unaware that a monster stalked them daily

They carried on with their busy days

Never aware they lived in a haze

So caught up in the hustle and bustle

They would never notice the odd little rustle

For a creature stalked the darkened street

Feasting wherever it may meet

The joyful actor or writer or comic

Happiness and joy were this beast’s tonic

From out of the gloom it leached and it syphoned

Leaving behind a joyless husk, alone and frightened

It waited outside, the theater and the club

Waiting for its next victim to turn into grub

But this creature did not feast on flesh

It preferred happiness, preferably fresh

It left its victims alive, a mere husk

To walk like shadows into dusk

Until one day this creature stalked

A lonely playwright who had walked

From his latest show, a masterpiece

He was all alone, in the quiet streets

The beast creeped closer to his supper

He had heard the reaction to this sucker

The crowd had cheered, chanted his name

Claimed he was a genius, awarded him fame

The beast pounced, leaching the man’s feelings

Sating himself, gorging himself, it was all to appealing

Until he felt a strange punch, a twist of sort

A feeling so new he stopped just short

He felt small, afraid, alone

He only wanted to go home

The crowd had cheered, sure

Only because they were immature

He was a hack, a fraud, he couldn’t write

If only they knew him, they’d see he’s right

He didn’t deserve any of their admiration

All this and more, the beast felt, humiliation

The beast looked up, existential tears in his eyes

Locking eyes with the writer, who saw through the disguise

The writer saw in the monster that fateful day

A kindred soul, someone who felt the same way

“You look like you’ve had a hard night”

The little man said, not bothered by the sight

“Come on back to my place with me

You can tell me all about it over some tea”

And so the beast left Vaudeville alone

Saved by a man with imposter Syndrome

If there's a moral to this strange little allegory

Feed your sad artists friends, avoid an end that is gory

Happy Halloween!