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Poem

The day the refrigerator went mad
Was the day the butcher put out the ad
Read to me by my own weirdo stepdad
Who was a putz, a reprobate, a cad
I was but a boy of ten, just a lad
Near the waterfront was our ugly pad
Chops only sixty cents, and we were glad
Refrigerator on the blink was bad
Can you cook them when you get home, dear Chad?
It was my mom and she was truly rad
Not wanting to make her any more sad
Gave her an excuse that was iron-clad
Refrigerator yelled “good grief! Egad!”
He fixed himself and threw away his mad.
Most active frig that we had ever had.
I didn’t have to cook, and I was glad!

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