Wednesday, July 31, 2013

JUST ANOTHER POEM ABOUT A PICKLE STAND

 
 
Westchester may well have its perks
And also its share of yuppie jerks
This one guy had it down to a science quite grand -
Some shmuck with his kid
At the Pickle Stand.
 At a "farmers market", kinda sparse
Situated in a campsite parking lot
Or so it seemed to me, at least.
But I digress…
So, his little beast…
 
Was standing in front of the PICKLE TRAY
Which boasted 'FREE SAMPLES' on display
Pickle chips of all variety:
Horseradish, half sour, and
Dill-chips, half-sweet…
 
Toothpicks were offered,
Nicely displayed
For the patrons to use
As a Pickle-Tasting  Aid.
 
I'm next to this kid,
Who leans over the tray
Like a vulture about to
Devour its prey -
His father behind him,
States LOUD and dramatic,
"NOW MAKE SURE YOU CHANGE TOOTHPICKS…."
While the kid does his acrobatics.
"USE A DIFFERENT TOOTHPICK FOR EACH PICKLE YOU EAT…"
He's making sure we all hear him,
He's hardly discreet
He wants us to know
What a great job he's doing
In raising this kid
Who is drooling and chewing…
 
And in the middle of DAD'S
GREAT TOOTHPICK SPEECH
The kid up and VOMITS -
Not much of a reach…
His mouth filled with pickle-slime
He pukes right into the tray
Containing all of the samples
On the tasting display.
 And ole' DAD OF THE YEAR -
Who imparts lessons SO WISE,
Grabs the kid by the hand
And they run for their lives.
 
The Pickle Lady, clue-less
Was 10 feet away
With a long line waiting
For her pickles that day.
 
So I told her what happened
And pointed at DAD, yelling:
"YEAH, THAT GUY'S KID JUST VOMITED
ALL UP IN YOUR SAMPLES
YEAH, THAT GUY RIGHT THERE -
THE ONE RUNNING AWAY…."
She got rid of the tray
And thanked me.
 
I did buy some pickles. 
They were okay.
But I'm definitely cured
Of tasting from the
Sample tray.
 
 
 
 

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