Dear Loon Extruder

The Beloved and I were discussing her favourite topic, viz that I’m a loony and she’s perfectly sane.  I countered that this can’t possibly be true considering who she gave birth to.  She may claim to be sane, but she’s really a loon extruder.  She realised immediately that this scanned (kinda sorta) to Daydream Believer by the Monkees, and demanded there and then that I write her a filk.

So I did.

I’d say “be careful what you wish for”, but for her that’s a bit late.

July 2022.


Oh, she can swear lots of things,
“I’m the sane one,” so she sings:
Her friends would all agree, or so she claims.
But I know (she’s my wife)
There is madness in her life:
To prove it, I just list our children’s names

Face it, favourite spouse!
In this circus house,
You’re my dear loon extruder,
I’m your own flying mouse

You once thought of me
As the loony in our team
You were simply “Her Serenity”
Oh, but the secret had to spill
And from here it’s all downhill:
You’re as batty as I am, you’ll see!