Plunger (an acrostic poem)

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Penelope looked at her kids and shook her head

Loving them was usually so easy, even if they were little witches

Until they broke something.  This time it was the toilet

Now she needed to put on her rubber gloves and pull out her weapon of choice

Going into the bathroom, she stopped in her tracks for a second

Everything was covered!

Readying for her weapon, she battled the summoned demon back down the bowl and flushed.

Tiger (an acrostic poem)

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There was that time when he was out prowling around

Impeccable coat, stripes so sharp they would slice through rival suitors

Giving the ladies a view of what an alpha male looked like

Everything changed when he met her.  She stopped that predator dead in his tracks

Relaxing on her new pelt rug, she looked into his eyes.  What a pussycat!

Forget the Cookies (a 200 word story)

I remember the child sitting on my lap.  “What would it take for you to do this one thing for me?” he had asked.  They warn you about this when you join the corps, but it still amazes you when you hear it.

That’s why I stopped in my tracks and thought hard once I was in the man’s bedroom.  What the kid was asking me to do came naturally.  Still, I hated the son of a bitch for what he had done to the boy, so I wanted to gift the man something more.  All it would take is a slight twitch and justice would be served.  I had killed many a person, young and old, male and female, but never while they slept, not in cold blood.  That was not who I was, at least not now.

I sheathed my blade and left his son’s note.  I thought about leaving a bit of coal behind to emphasize that I saw his naughty ass and if I had wanted he would have been mine, but I am a man of the red cloth.  “What would it take?  I may only play a saint, but a devil I am not.”

 

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The Blues (an acrostic poem)

Too much guitar can ruin anyone’s day

Heather put it down and looked at the mixer

Everything she had poured her soul into was in there

 

Being meticulous she began mixing the tracks

Loving living in the minutia of the sound

Understating the rifts, but keeping the sad story moving

Everything was just about perfect

She cried when the mixer hit a sour note and lost everything