Kreative Kue 292 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
“You want to tell me what happened?”
“You would never believe it.”
“Oh, come on.”
“No, you would immediately think it was my fault.”
“Well, that’s not a nice thing to say.”
“But you always take the other side.”
“Only when I think you’re wrong.”
“Which is most of the time.”
“Okay. I promise I’ll hear you out and keep my opinions to myself.”
“Well, if you promise.”
“There I was. Standing on the corner minding my own business.”
“Your stories all start out the same.”
“You asked. Should I continue?”
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
“As I said, I was minding my business when this big bus turned the corner.”
“You didn’t chase the bus, did you?”
“You going to wait or not?”
“Sorry again. Please proceed.”
“On the bus was this picture of a beautiful dog. It was running its heart out.”
“Okay. That would be a Greyhound bus.”
“The dog looked at me, and in an instant, I knew what I had to do.”
“The dog looked at you?”
“I took off and kept stride for stride. I kept asking the dog if it needed help.”
“How did you know?”
“We came to a corner, and the bus stopped.”
“When are we going to get to the paw?”
“The doors opened, so I started to get on.”
“Someone kicked your paw?”
“No, the doors slammed shut on it. Seems they didn’t want a dog on there even though they had one captive on the side.”
“Doesn’t seem like that would do too much damage.”
“Then the bus started moving with my paw in the door. That’s when I knew I had to yank it free.”
“Which caused the hurt.”
“No. The rear tire hitting it caused the hurt.”
“That’s it? Just I see. No critical comments.”
“I think anything I say would just add insult to injury.”
“So you think it is my fault that I got injured trying to help a poor dog in distress?”
“No. That’s not what I think.”
“That you’re an idiot.”
“You were going to keep your opinion to yourself.”
My effort was:
My dad took me down to the vet,
A trip I shall never forget.
While trimming a claw
They cut off my paw!
They didn’t plan that, you can bet.
And as from my leg the paw hung
I damn nearly bit off my tongue.
She put on some cream,
Though nice that may seem,
I’ll tell you, it blooming-well stung.
So now, what is left has been bound;
She said it’s to stay off the ground.
My idea of fun
Is having a run;
I can’t stand still, I’m a greyhound.
She knows that it isn’t appealing
But insists that as long as it’s healing
I should take the pill,
Aim to keep still,
And try not to bounce off the ceiling!
So now my Dad writes on his site
A lim’rick about his ‘poor mite’.
He says he feels shame
And thinks he’s to blame;
My only words are, “well he might.”
This feature will now take a break until sometime in the new year.