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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Comedy · #1906808
What won't a husband do?
Dashing to the store,
My face gone greenish-gray
My windows were all rolled down
'cause a skunk got in the way
Hell on wheels I sprang
Ignoring flashing lights
I roared into the parking lot
Just missing a cat fight

Oh, horrid smell, reeking smell
Burning all the way
I used to think it fun to drive
With the top down night and day
Horrid smell, rotting smell
My wife is going to pay,
Making me go out tonight
For the “perfect” serving tray

Into the store I strode
Barraged by sound and sight
Soon I was hiding from
The sister of my bride
Her horse-face drawn and blank
On her hip she tote a tot
He wheezed and coughed and stank
Spreading the cold that he had caught.

Oh, this is swell, a woman fell
Fighting over a blouse
Oh, how could on this blissful night
A sane man leave his house
I heard the knell of a blue-light sale
Women swooned and swayed
Oh, I swam against the tide
To find a Santa-shaped tray

What the hell, it's not on sale
I bought it anyway
'Cause my wife's wrath I can't abide
So full price I had to pay
Horrid smell, stinking smell
Reeking all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a top-down, motorized sleigh.
© Copyright 2012 D. Thorsson (mythos_keeper at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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