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The Ballad of the Plastic Freak
I’ve been sitting here so long,
My butts getting numb,
So I jump right up
And stick out my thumb.
He comes rolling down the street,
With the only smell of mention,
The noxious fumes; olfactory tension.
Now I’m not trying to make excuses.
But I Really needed to get to,
Lower Catoosas.
This dude with odiferous outlet
Was a goin’ my way.
If you think that was dumb,
Just listen to this:
It was a super-charged Edsel
With slicks on the rear,
It had the characteristic stench of,
Cheap, stinkin’ beer.
When I jumped in the car
He shot me the Bird,
And laid on me
These immortal words,
“Far in man…
Like what’s going off?”
I was stunned awhile
Had to catch my breath,
He looked at me with
A grin like death.
The smell was real,
The driver was not.
Like a bobble-head doll
On the dash installed.
I regained my feet,
Away from the freak,
“Thanks, but I’d rather walk”.
Copyright ©
Randy Becknell
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