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* For Catie's contest

Rosie was relaxing in her kitchen
Alone she sat, friends at a convention

So lonely, no one to wine and dine
At her Hammond estate on Lake Michigan so fine

Munching on Tid-Bits that had the taste
Well…let’s face it…of nuclear waste

Medicine she had taken to ease the pain
Of an insomnia-induced migraine

Wearing only her husband’s Spandex boxer shorts
A knock at the door; “Vacuum salesmen!” her retort

Tried to freshen her breath with Listerine soaked tissue
But the medication was developing another issue

She felt her mind drifting through wormholes of space
Not even a UFO had found this place

In Dire Straits now, she stared at lunar craters
That were filled by eerie invaders

She beheld a strange species of alligators
“We need a new gig,” said one of predators

The reptile approached her hungrily
“And you look like a grand prize of culinary”

But suddenly she sneezed; it broke the spell
And now she was back home in vacuum salesmen hell

She awoke in her kitchen and trashed the medication
Knowing she sorely needed a lengthy vacation


*Dedicated to late Soup member Tom Bell.

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