Listen to poem:
Here's the deal, folks...
This is, as indicated, the 2nd HALF of this fairly lengthy poem. Due to Poetry Soup's file-size limitations, this piece had to be posted in 2 parts.
The 1st HALF can be accessed, of course, by going to - "Poems by Mark Stellinga" - on the Soup. Sorry for the inconvenience...
Harley’s accusation pushed old Leo off the deep end.
He actually started spitting when he first began to speak.
(But you know what…it’s prob’ly true, ‘cause other guys ‘ve told me
that Leo’s tried the same with them…he’s out here every week!)
“Damn it, man, I’m telling you, that scratch right there is new,”
Leo claimed, while pointing at a tiny rusty line.
“Even Cord’s don’t rust THAT fast,” was Harley’s shrewd reply.
“I’ll tell you what I’d do with this old sow if it was mine…
“I’d cut it up for scrap and take the hundred twenty bucks
and put it towards a frickin’ car that’s actually worth the dough.
And if you think I’m falling for -- ‘that scratch right there is new’…
an’ ‘ll give you even one thin dime…you know where you can go!”
Well…Leo fin’ly lost it, and he threw himself at Harley.
Both their glasses filled the air…along with one toupe!
Once the smoke had fin’ly cleared, they both were on the ground…
And Leo’s “rug” had landed on a nearby Chevrolet.
The guy that owned the Chevy missed the fight, but saw the hair-piece,
and, having never seen one, thought it road-kill -- skinned and tanned!
He gave the thing a mighty fling, and - like a fury Frisbee -
it fin’ly came to rest on Darnell Pickler’s mother’s hand!
Well…Mrs. Pickler screamed so loud it actually shook the light-poles,
so Darnell quickly grabbed the thing and marched to Leo’s car.
Laid a big old knuckle sandwich right on Leo’s kisser,
broke his nose and split his lip…I’m sure there’ll be a scar.
Now…Leo’s wife had just returned from walkin’ around the car show,
So, naturally, had no idea about what she had missed.
All she’d seen was Mr. Pickler punchin’ out her husband.
Well…there ain’t nothin’ meaner than Lavina - when she’s pissed!
Across the lot she calmly strolled until she’d reached the Picklers,
sauntered up to where Darnell had just sat down to rest,
Grabbed him by the hair and threw him down upon the pavement,
then - cursing like a sailor - started jumping on his chest!
Marsha Pickler - Darnell’s sister - quickly grabbed Lavina,
shoved her hard as hell against their ’60 Thunderbird.
Grabbing its antennae - to prevent a nasty fall -
and screaming out the most disgusting words I’ve ever heard -
Mrs. Sidwell wound up with their aerial in her hand,
Which, - somewhat understandably - she wielded as a sword
To fend off Mr. Pickler…once he’d struggled to his feet…
warning him, “I’ll teach your wimpy ass to scratch our Cord!”
“I didn’t scratch your pile o’ junk,” a trembling Darnell hollered.
“Harley Baxter did it ------ if anyone actually did!
? And Harley’s sister, Norma, is the one who caused the brawl
by crushin’ Jubil’s ragtop - when she body-tossed that kid!
“Now…give me my antennae, and go find that ugly hippo.
She’s the one who started what has turned into a war!”
? Lavina fin’ly calmed a bit, and - handing off her weapon -
wasn’t actually too surprised at all to learn the score.
She headed back to tell her husband all that she’d been told,
and help him understand why he’d been slugged the way he was.
Damn, I hope that someday Norma gets what she’s got comin’,
and really hope I’m standin’ there to see it when she does.
My wife, meanwhile - whom I was sure would side, of course,
with Norma - asked for my opinion as to who was right and wrong.
“I was wiping bugs off, dear…I didn’t see a thing,” I wisely lied -
to save my ass. (That’s why we get along!)
Thanks for reading the whole piece.
PS: I've got 4 new CDs - @ 4 1/2 hours each = (62 diversely varied poems), listed on EBAY - under - “Mark Stellinga Poetry” - should those of you who travel care to be so entertained. (We use PayPal)
Copyright © Mark Stellinga | Year Posted 2021