Note: The following poem brings forward a reinterpretation of Stanley Kowalski from Tennessee Williams's A Streetcar Named Desire. I have also included the famous tomcat named Bob; the first book about him (written by his owner, James Bowen) is called A Street Cat Named Bob and I couldn't help but think that the title was inspired from Williams's play. Given this situation, I decided to bring Stanley and Bob together, in order to explore the former's notorious portrayal as a brute. The central question was whether Stanley could ever be "tamed" and reveal a humane side - and a possible answer might have emerged through Bob himself, as he indirectly challenges his (new) owner to re-evaluate himself, his past actions and how the entire world perceives him. The poem (constructed as if Stanley addresses Bob) makes use of lines from the play (written in italic) and a few scenes from movies and TV shows (Back to the Future, Seinfeld, Gilmore Girls, The Princess and the Frog) which have incorporated Stanley's famous "Stella!" yell as an intertextual device. With those being said, enjoy this playful piece!
Well, isn’t that just dandy!
Just when I need it, I’m missing some brandy.
Now it would definitely come in handy
If you could tell me what makes you strut like a Yankee.
Pity you can’t fetch me at least a bottle of beer;
You just popped up leaving some paint smear
As if you seek to mess around and domineer.
If only you could tell me what has brought you here
You sack of ginger fur –
For you couldn’t be some liquor
Or dare I say, some ginger ale
Meant to ail my soul…
But it’s not my soul, it’s my kidneys I’m worried about!
(Suppose I may also end up with some gout?)
I was once told to possess my soul in patience
By someone who thought she was oh, so gracious.
Blanche DuBois
Devoid of any flaw
Faux-pas –
A look filled with awe –
Hell no, that was the last straw!
Could I have asked you to give her the claw
And not your paw?
She should have known better
For as soon as I met her
I told her I never was a very good English student.
But with my words now, why am I so prudent?
I’m getting out of this scheme
I know my self-esteem.
Giving up on this rhyme
At my prime… time.
I’m afraid I’ll strike even you as being the unrefined type;
Typical of you to give me that look
As if you’re telling me, “You’re damn tootin’ I’m going to stay here.”
Stealing the words right out of my mouth
Truly wishing to have me in the palm of your paw.
I ought to have control, for I don’t want no ifs, ands or buts!
But I do end up with your butt in the palm of my hands
For you do know where to sit and how to take a stand
Which does leave me iffy
For there can only be one king in this house.
Not once can someone pull any wool over this boy’s eyes
But you do manage to pull the fur over my face
Every morning, when you ask for food.
I have been called a brute
(That makes us equals)
But you can win without saying anything;
That separates us.
I was once able to let out a barbaric yawp (as someone before me put it)
While managing to express everything.
In time, though, my scream has been reduced to nothing
(Although people claim that it reverberates in today’s culture)
But does it truly have the same effect when a man shouts my wife’s name
After he hits a random bloke with his car, a bloke who can’t stay put
And has one foot in the past, the other in the future
And both on the pedals of a time machine? [Back to the Future, 1985; timestamp: 00:38]
Does my scream carry meaning when a woman takes my wife’s name
Through a series of high and low pitches
After having taken too many muscle relaxants? [Seinfeld, 1989-1998; timestamp: 03:20]
Is my scream still relevant when a mother calls out my wife’s name
After having lost her daughter’s baby chick, for a school project? [Gilmore Girls, 2000-2007; timestamp: up until 00:40]
Is my scream to be taken seriously when a dog bearing my wife’s name is ordered
To chase and catch two delinquent frogs? (Right here, in the state of Louisiana!) [The Princess and the Frog, 2009]
Last time I knew, I was a one hundred percent American, born and raised
In the greatest country on Earth and proud as hell of it
But is America proud of me? Any thoughts, feline?
Is there something about me that people want to refine?
They’re definitely not bringing me closer to a shrine.
Hoity-toity, everybody describing me as an ape
Blanche and the world cannot forget my act of r-
I’ve been called a brute, placed in opposition to my buddy Mitch
And Stella herself, later on, has been portrayed as an actual chick or a b-
While I was too busy making a pig of myself
The whole world was preoccupied with calling me common.
So I been told. And told and told and told!
But they all forgot their own primitive sides
While thinking they’re entitled to put on the dog
(Funnily, you, tomcat, could never do that!)
But now the cat’s out of the bag!
(No, not you, tomcat, you’d never get trapped just like that!)
Not much can change, though
I have already left a mark
And the touch of my hands will still insult anything
And everything will have to be burned afterwards.
However did you find me, cat?
You have accepted everything out of my hand
And nothing has burned your throat.
I’d say you look better than two weeks ago
When you snuck into my humble abode
Leaving behind paint smear
Knowing you’re stepping into something austere.
Would you have ever screeched to scare Blanche?
Or would you have been quiet
Never giving me the opportunity to let out a piercing screech myself? [A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951; timestamp: 01:55]
You truly don’t say much
But it’s not as if you’re out of touch.
Despite my past, you don’t seem to judge
You’re not a creature that could hold a grudge.
Instead, without much effort, you seem to adjust
What’s out of place, teaching the value of trust.
I don’t need to be a very good English student to understand that.
After having strayed
For a while
A street cat named Bob was not afraid
To jump into a streetcar named Desire
And reach my domicile.
I guess you could be the king and I could call you sire.
Without your love, after all, it would be a honky-tonk parade
Without your love, it would be a melody played in a penny arcade…
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