The Deadly Flan: My Search for a Long, Lost Scary Poem

When I was in high school, I took drama for a semester.  The class was riddled with problems because the teacher in line to teach it quit within the first few days of the school year.  We had substitute after substitute that just didn’t know what to do with us, but there was one in particular that really tried.

She asked us all to find a poem or some short monologue to perform in front of class.  Being a fan of creepy things, I decided to look up scary poems on the internet .  That’s when I found “The Deadly Flan” by Loro Figgy.

It was a fun poem about a murder, and I practiced and practiced until I had it just right.  I was so excited to perform it in front of the class – and then the substitute quit. *sigh*

I had a copy of it at one point, but it’s been missing for years. And sadly, it was on an old Angelfire site that is now defunct.

It’s missing. I’m sad.

So this is a call for help.  Some parts are ingrained in my mind but not all, and it’s driving me insane.  This is what I remember:

“The Deadly Flan”

by Loro Figgy

I baked a big flan,

A deep cherry flan,

In a pan made of plastic. It melted.

So I served the thing up,

In a big paper cup,

To my guest and she died when she smelt it.

“The death,” the judge stated,

“Was premeditated.”

The prosecution agreed.

“Will you make your repentance,

Before I pass sentence.

Oh, wait. How do you plead?”

Well, I did what I could.

I blamed Sara Lee, Betty Crocker, and Darjeeling Tea.

Said I, “They conspired,

Their short tempers fired,

To kill both my friend and me.”

[MISSING]

“But I with a soul,

As pure as a foal,

Came wandering in unawares.”

“I saw the dire coven,

Their heads in the oven,

And thought they were baking eclairs.”

[MISSING]

“And gave it to my dear friend, Anne.”

[MISSING]

“So you see, oh judge,

The plot wasn’t mine.

Surely, no fault befalls me.”

“The culprits are there!”

And I pointed, “Those three,

Ms. Crocker, Ms. Lee, and Ms. Tea.”

[MISSING?]

Well, I’m here today,

And I’m happy to say,

My pride has made me walk taller.

Though it’s sad and it’s grim,

The company’s slim,

For the town where I live has grown smaller.

[MISSING?]

Perhaps, I’ll invite,

Just to mellow their spite,

For the lies I issued in court,

Betty Crocker, Sara Lee,

And Darjeeling Tea,

And bake them a blueberry torte.

So there you have it.  That’s what I remember.  I plead with any of you out there, if you have read this poem or have a copy tucked away somewhere, please oh please fill in the gaps.

I’ll bake you something for it.

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