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Dog Gone
(By R.P.Edwards)
Delightful dogs
A steady gnaw
Grandkids want more
From their PaPa...
The conversation might have gone like this:
"Here we go, brothers! It's why we were born!"
(A roisterous cheer from the other 7 as they are quickly thrown to the heated grate.)
"A Weber grill; a classic, just like us."
30 MINUTES LATER
"When's he coming back? We need to be turned!"
"I can't stand it anymore! Ayeee!"
"What an inhuman monster. It's not right. It's not right (gasp)."
A WORD FROM THE EXECUTIONER
No excuses. I got distracted. Ballpark Franks are a regular feature of the family gathering. There's one grandchild in particular who craves them, BUT, on this day the coals had already done heavy lifting with pork steaks and chicken and, as the embers were light in emissions I quickly threw the dogs atop. BUT, I forgot them for oh so long. AND, even the tinyest flame can burn deeply and the dogs who once boasted, "They plump when you cook them," did NOT plump; they ruptured terribly into carbonous canyons. Alas.
I did redeem myself the following week.
The poem continues...
...But though he began
Forgetful he
And hot dogs this day
Are not to be
Behold the following week:
****
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