All is well by the blazing fireside,
but it’s been a fiasco in the kitchen.

The wife’s in a whirlwind,

she is going to need some help.
See, there’s this contraption she can’t work out,

too many “whirlie” things and pulsating lights.

After she pulled the metal fork out of it,

it was fine,

till she got the fork caught in the toaster.
She plugged in the toaster to see if she could pop it out.

Now there’s a blazin’ fire,

and nothin’ for supper.


1 Comment

Filed under Outlaw poetry, poetry

One response to “Fireside

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