With pimento eyes and onion teeth,
Oliver is only followed by a funeral wreath.
He is a salty fella, the fruit of the doom,
and he can infiltrate even the elitist of rooms.
He is mean and vindictive and full of spite;
he is stuffed with loathing and fear of the human bite.
He is a mutation, borne from a vinegar bath,
now out in the world to seek his wrath.
He is an abnormal dude with abnormal limbs,
two gangly legs that look like stems.
His legs are the Yin and the Yang, opposites that attract,
ensuring you will soon join with a death contract.
You may wonder why Oliver is stuffed with hate:
it’s actually because of lunch and the way humans ate.
He had witnessed the toothpicking of his people, you see,
as they crucified his kind in effigy.
So the next time you order a pastrami on rye,
ask for no Oliver, or you’ll surely die…
—O’Brien & Yates
[Words by Richard O’Brien. Image by Richard F. Yates.]