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Image for the poem Winter Horse Apples

Winter Horse Apples

The sun was fading behind our single-wide trailer,    
high up on the knob of what used to be a landfill.    
Now a trailer park that had lost its flavor when the    
flamingos left for tastier pickings. We had wall-to-  
wall linoleum both inside and outside.  
          
We are naturists (nudists) and enjoy being free of    
blue denim. Occasionally, Granny paints pockets    
on my right buttock cheek. One might say that we    
are eccentric because we wear Bullwinkle antlers.      
Also, Granny is president of the local Little Jimmy    
Dickens Fan Club.    
   
Although going on 46, I was living with my    
antiquated grandparents after my mom vamoosed  
with a Massey Ferguson tractor salesman. I was the    
local town sheriff during the week after passing a    
home correspondence law enforcement course.    
   
Granny was repairing the hems on Chef Boyardee    
Ravioli which we used as bean bags to toss at the    
crawdad holes. However, we did have a few pet    
crawdads that impersonated crickets. We kept them    
chained to the outhouse to chase the flies and bo    
weevils away. Two days ago she steamed her socks  
in the crock pot and I had to arrest her and read her    
rights for inciting the damn canary. "Peter Piper    
picked a peck of pickled peppers..."  
   
Grandpa was replacing the shims and gaskets of his    
steampunk penis implant that he got out of pawn.    
Using a sledgehammer and biting down on a piece of    
frog jerky to keep from screaming. The damn thing    
just fell apart we were watching Japanese porn on    
TV. Closed-captioned: 明日も私を尊敬してくれる?  
Ashita mo watashi o sonkei shite kureru? Meaning,    
will you respect me tomorrow?  Instead of an    
ejaculation, he poofed a smoked ring that hung in    
the air for 15 minutes. It was either a porn video or    
Mr. Ed. A sitcom about a talking horse.  
   
Granny went to the  bedroom and fetched her pedal-  
operated dildo that she called her Shillelagh. It had    
been carved from an old Conway Twitty guitar.        
   
When he and Granny canoodled, the vapor polluted    
the air in the valley where the town set. It was so    
thick that the smoke detectors went off all over    
town. Maybe one reason why the flamingos    
departed.    
   
I was coming home to roost after a long night at the    
bowling alley. I was a pin setter on the weekends    
and had earned my Golden Fleece Award for being    
there ten years. Golden fleece is a pair of adult    
nappies painted the same color as acorn squash.    
 
Written by adagio
Published
Author's Note
Raw humor.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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