The Annotated Archy and Mehitabel

  Forgets His Littleness

  if all the bugs

  in all the worlds

  twixt earth and betelgoose1

  should sharpen up

  their little stings

  and turn their feelings loose

  they soon would show

  all human beans

  in saturn

  earth

  or mars

  their relative significance

  among the spinning stars

  man is so proud

  the haughty simp

  so hard for to approach

  and he looks down

  with such an air

  on spider

  midge

  or roach

  the supercilious silliness

  of this poor wingless bird

  is cosmically comical

  and stellarly absurd

  his scutellated occiput

  has holes somewhere inside

  and there no doubt

  two pints or so

  of scrambled brains reside

  if all the bugs

  of all the stars

  should sting him on the dome

  they might pierce through

  that osseous rind

  and find the brains at home

  and in the convolutions lay

  an egg with fancies fraught

  which

  germinating rapidly

  might turn into a thought

  might turn into the thought

  that men

  and insects are the same

  both transient flecks

  of starry dust

  that out of nothing came

  the planets are

  what atoms are

  and neither more nor less

  man s feet have grown

  so big that he

  forgets his littleness

  the things he thinks

  are only things

  that insects always knew

  the things he does

  are stunts that we

  don t have to think to do

  he spent a score

  of centuries

  in getting feeble wings

  which we instinctively

  acquired

  with other trivial things

  the day is coming

  very soon

  when man and all his race

  must cast their silly

  pride aside

  and take the second place

  i ll take the bugs

  of all the stars

  and tell them of my plan

  and fling them with

  their myriad stings

  against the tyrant man

  dear boss this outburst

  is the result

  of a personal insult

  as so much verse always is

  maybe you know how

  that is yourself

  i dropped into an irish

  stew in a restaurant

  the other evening

  for a warm bath and a bite

  to eat and a low browed

  waiter plucked me out

  and said to me

  if you must eat i will

  lead you to the

  food i have especially prepared

  for you and he took me

  to the kitchen

  and tried to make me

  fill myself with

  a poisonous concoction

  known cynically as roach food

  can you wonder

  that my anger

  against the whole human

  race has blazed forth in

  song when the revolution

  comes i shall

  do my best to save

  you you have so many

  points that are far

  from being human

  OCTOBER 17

  Business Matters

  boss i should like

  to discuss one or two

  business matters with you

  quite seriously

  in the first place i need

  some sort of head gear such as

  football players wear

  i have to butt each

  key of the typewriter

  with my head

  and i am developing

  callouses on my brain

  these callouses on my

  brain are making me cruel

  and careless in my thoughts

  i am becoming brutal

  almost human

  in my writings

  and then i would like

  a little automobile

  i have to go from place

  to place so much

  picking up news for you

  a clock work one would do

  with a chauffeur to keep it

  wound up for me

  and a lightning bug to

  sit in front and be

  the headlight on dark nights

  i hate to mention food boss

  it seems so sordid

  and plebeian but i no longer

  find any left over crusts

  of sandwiches in your

  waste paper basket i am

  forced to haunt the

  restaurants and hotels for food

  and this is at the

  imminent risk of my life

  unless i get these things

  i will quit you on

  november first is not the

  laborer worthy of his hire

  yours for economic justice

  and a living wage

  OCTOBER 19

  Fairies

  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle believes in fairies as well as ghosts, and in his latest book, “The Coming of the Fairies,”1 shows photographs of them.

  With regard to ghosts, while we have never believed in them, we have always been afraid of them.

  And with regard to the fairies, we put it up to Archy the Cockroach.

  “Are there such things?” we asked him.

  He replied:

  millions and millions

  of them i wish

  i had a dollar

  for every one

  i have killed

  “Killed!” we cried, shocked. “You don’t mean to say you cockroaches kill them?”

  He answered:

  we cockroaches

  do not get as many

  of them

  as the spiders do

  all insects prey on them

  when they can

  and they prey

  on insects

  did you ever see a

  little transparent

  shrimp just out

  of the water

  well that is what

  they look like

  and they taste about

  the same way

  with lettuce

  and sliced tomatoes

  and a dash of

  mayonnaise dressing

  between a couple of thin

  slices of bread they

  should be wonderful

  i wish i had a mess

  of the darned things

  right now

  “How do you catch them?” we asked the Demon Cockroach.

  He replied:

  with honey

  we gaum a little

  honey from a wild bee

  tree onto a leaf

  and they come and

  eat it off

  and they stick fast

  to the leaves

  then we pounce on them

  and kill them

  and eat them

  “This is frightful!” we cried.

  Archy said:

  why get so heated

  about the confounded

  little nuisances

  that is always

  the way with

  you human beings

  you are all full of

  sentimentality

  and no sense

  why do you not have

  sympathy with t
he poor

  insects which these

  creatures kill and eat

  it is a case of

  eat bug or die with all

  of us i never saw

  you shed any tears

  over eating an oyster

  or a mess of shrimps or

  a half dozen frogs legs

  you eat beef and mutton

  and fish and pork

  and all kinds of birds

  without a qualm

  and you would eat insects

  too if you liked them

  “Horrible! Horrible!” we exclaimed.

  The Cockroach continued:

  you think so just

  because you have not

  accustomed your mind

  to it the fact of their

  existence and the fact

  that they are food

  will soon become

  as commonplace to you

  as snails

  OCTOBER 28

  I Knuckle Under

  all right boss

  i knuckle under

  if you will not

  pay me anything

  for what i write

  then you will not

  i will return to the job

  just to keep james the spider

  out of it but all the

  same it is cruel of you

  to play upon the

  jealousies

  and susceptibilities

  of artists in that fashion

  i do not know how

  you expect me to be

  merry and bright

  with this dull ache

  of disillusionment at my

  heart and the sharp

  pang of hunger

  in my stomach

  some day i will plunge

  into a mince pie

  and mingle with its elements

  and you will never see

  me more and then

  maybe you will begin

  to appreciate

  the poor little cockroach

  who slaved that you might

  live in comfort

  maybe in spite of myself

  i will haunt you then

  if i were you i would hate

  to be haunted by the ghost

  of a cockroach

  think of it boss

  everywhere you looked

  to see a spectral cockroach

  that none but you knew was

  there to pick him from

  your shirt front when

  others were blind to him

  to feel him crawling

  on your collar in public

  places to be compelled

  to brush him from your plate

  when you sat down to dine

  to pluck him always from the glass

  before you dared to drink

  to extend your hand

  to grab that of some fair

  lady and then hesitate and

  pick him from her wrist

  people would begin to think

  you were a little

  queer boss and if you

  attempted to explain

  they would think you still

  queerer what in the world

  is the matter with you

  they would say

  oh nothing nothing at all

  you would answer

  plucking at the air

  it will soon pass i merely

  thought i saw a cockroach

  on your nose madam

  suspicions of your sanity

  would grow and grow

  do you not like that

  pudding your hostess would ask

  and you would murmur

  being taken off your guard

  it is very good pudding

  indeed i was just

  trying not to eat

  the cockroach

  boss i do not make

  any threats at all

  i just simply state what

  may very well happen to

  you through remorse if you

  drive me to suicide

  i will try not to

  haunt you boss because

  i am loving and forgiving

  in my spirit but who

  knows that i will not be

  compelled to haunt you

  in spite of myself

  a hard heart will not get

  you anything boss

  remember the plagues

  of egypt perhaps to

  your remorseful mind i

  will be multiplied

  by millions i am giving

  you a last chance to

  repent you should be glad

  that i am only a cockroach

  and not a tarantula

  yours prophetically

  NOVEMBER 1

  The Dactyl Droops1

  autumn is here

  and the dactyl2

  droops its weary wing

  and the sad iambic3

  shivers

  with frozen feet4

  poor thing

  but spring will come

  and the poets

  will thaw

  and the fountains gush

  and a hundred

  million dactyls

  twitter

  amid the slush

  NOVEMBER 16

  Investigating Her Morals

  boss i got

  a message from

  mehitabel the cat

  the other day

  brought me by

  a cockroach

  she asks for our help

  it seems she is being

  held at ellis

  island while an

  investigation is made

  of her morals

  she left the country

  and now it looks as

  if she might not

  be able to get

  back in again

  she cannot see

  why they are

  investigating

  her morals she says

  wotthehellbill she says

  i never claimed

  i had any morals

  she has always regarded

  morals as an unnecessary

  complication in life

  her theory is

  that they take up room that might

  better be devoted to

  something more interesting

  live while you are alive

  she says and postpone

  morality to the hereafter

  everything in its place

  is my rule she says

  but i am liberal she

  says i do not give

  a damn how moral other

  people are i never try

  to interfere with them

  in fact i prefer them

  moral they furnish

  a background for my

  vivacity in the meantime

  it looks as if she

  would have to swim

  if she gets ashore and

  the water is cold

  NOVEMBER 21

  Small Talk

  boss the other day

  i heard an

  ant conversing

  with a flea

  small talk i said

  disgustedly

  and went away

  from there

  NOVEMBER 22

  Shakespeare and I1

  coarse

  jocosity

  catches the crowd

  shakespeare

  and i

  are often

  low browed

  the fish wife2

  curse

  and the laugh

  of the horse

  shakespeare

  and i

  are frequently

  coarse

  aesthetic

  excuses

  in bill s behalf

  are adduced

  to refine

  big bill s

  coarse laugh

>   but bill

  he would chuckle

  to hear such guff

  he pulled

  rough stuff

  and he liked

  rough stuff

  hoping you

  are the same

  DECEMBER 1

  Thank You for the Mittens

  thank you

  for the mittens

  socks and

  muffler for me

  knitted out of

  frogs hair by one

  of my admirers which

  you so kindly

  forwarded i suppose

  the reason

  i got them was that

  they were too

  small for you

  to wear yourself

  yours for rum

  crime and riot

  DECEMBER 13

  Archy Is Excited

  dear boss i found

  a red1 ribbon in

  your typewriter

  to-day and i am

  not to be held

  responsible for what i

  write red always

  excites me so

  yours for hasheesh

  hedonism and hades

  exclamation

  point

  ARCHY IS STILL EXCITED

  dear boss i am

  acquiring more

  and more contempt

  for you humans

  i heard a couple

  of girls yesterday

  saying what a nice

  christmas present it

  would make to catch

  a live archy

  and have him gilded and

  wear him on

  a little chain

  attached to a scarf

  pin yours for red rum

  ruin revolt and rapine

  DECEMBER 23

  The Futility of Literature

  i heard a spider

  and a fly arguing

  wait said the fly

  do not eat me

  i serve a great purpose

  in the world

  you will have to

  show me said the spider

  i scurry around

  gutters and sewers

  and garbage cans

  said the fly and gather

  up the germs of

  typhoid influenza

  and pneumonia on my feet

  and wings

  then i carry these germs

  into the households of men

  and give them diseases

  all the people who

  have lived the right

  sort of life recover

  from the diseases

  and the old soaks who

  have weakened their systems