thars a possum on the porch again
I think he wunts ta be ma friend
if only I could speak like he
I'd ask which way he liked ta be
grilled or skewered
but if'n id be thinkin fast
he just might notta gotten past
the light from the back porch dim
a shot i didn't even get at him
fer the gun was in the den
and time I got it aimed at hem
he'sa gone
maybe id wuz fer the better
fer if'n I did pull that tragger
there'd be a big hole thet the 12 gauge leave
and not much meat fer me to heave
on the grill
to 'et my fill
of that possum
truth be told that pity had not stayed the hand of my vengeance of the vermin, but the lack of a shell to load the aforementioned gun that would properly do the trick without "blowing up" the foul pest. For a two and three quarter shell was in reach but twas a high brass turkey load. Far too much concentrated power for as much as was needed to do the job properly and instead a low brass was preferred so off to the garage I went and loaded my gun but by the time the stock was rested to my shoulder and my eye to the sight, he had disappeared into the brush.
Next time my ugly little friend,
next time.
4 comments:
Yeah! I bet he went to find his...non-brassy thingy for his explosive projectile projector thingy so he could project a projectile back at you...you projectiler person you...
Hi Chris!
Your post made me think of my dad when he takes out his shotgun on a Saturday afternoon, stalking the yard... waiting for his prey, anything that moves, to appear. And the smile on his face as he sees a small, helpless, lifeless animal drop.
You're too much alike.
Dear Robert,
I mean, Christopher,
The feeling is mutual.
I cannot destroy Schiller's precious eulogy of myself, so please allow me to write you a new poem, as a proxy.
Dear Robert,
I mean, Christopher,
The midgets we clobber
Could never be tougher
Than all that we suffer
From being apart.
It rends my friggin heart.
Choke on a tear and die.
It serves you right.
Do not despair despite
The curses heaped upon your head;
Just make another critter dead.
When life gets bleak and hard,
Just pull your trigger to its guard,
And send a furry creature home.
-Wilhelm
And by "aaron", I assume you mean "wilhelm"?
Post a Comment