Puppy Love

It was late, late midsummer…

If that makes any sense

Young Cora Ray Jennings

Sat perched high on her fence

The lake spread out below,

All shimmer and shine

She sat flinging stones

Into the cool brine

For any locale would,

On this day be nice,

She chose calm Black Lake

Spurring any, and all other advice

Too soon came to the hour

When lunch would be called

Sure enough, there went mother,

“Com’a get yer darmn supper!”,

She bawled.

Off from the fence---

Something broke the still blue, and

Ignoring sweet mother

Closer the lakebed, she drew…

It was fur

It was flesh

Teeth, whiskers, and gills

More alien, more strange

Than three-dollar bills

“Oh, shit!”

Cora Ray Jennings declared,

More shocked and appalled

Than out and out scared

The eyes of the thing

Were inquisitive and wise,

But below those cute whiskers

Was swift, sure demise.

As she, cautious, yet brave

Approached the foot of the lake

She heard once more mother,

“Git yer arse in here for pete’s sake!”

She turned to scream out,

To draw heed to her plight

The sun beamed down hot,

Threw white flecks on her sight

Mother seemed miles,

Perhaps light-years away

She didn’t want to turn heel,

And face the fact: she was prey

Slowly turning,

In her chest, her heart’s loud, quick report

And finding…

The cat-shark with cannibal teeth…

Was not there anymore…

She looked all about,

Found no sight and no sound

Thinking then that perhaps

A phantasm she’d found

Trudging weary,

Eyes searching, back to the house,

Sneaking in quietly,

A blonde, foul-mouthed mouse

“HEY CORA, HEY CORA!

COME LOOKIE, COME SEE!

It walked itself in,

And here, here it be!”

There on the stove,

Brained, throttled

And ready to bake…

The creature that appeared

At the foot of the lake.

“Mother, what the hell

Kindofathing are you servin’

To eat?!

I’d just as soon swallow

Both’a me feet!”

“Now, ain’t got a lot’a food

In the pantry, less in the stock

And none in the cuboard!”

“But lookit it, ma! It’s fure

Sure got some diseases!”,

She blubbered.

“Oh, p’shaw!

A good turn in the pit,

No worries my luv,

just take ye a sit.”

Dejected, directed,

She sat down at the table

Composing, reposing,

Controlling the tears as best she was able

An hour or so later

And many tears shed

Mother served up the creature

From which Cora’d fled.

To her surprise,

It was quite a fine dish,

The revolting, grotesque,

Abominable fish.

With it she served a skillet

Of taters,

The kind with too many eyes

And huge, misshapen craters.

After supper was done,

Cora’s ma smiled and passed air

“You see what I made,

And you say I don’t care.”

“Even better, dear daughter,

I found you some pets.

There’s expensive ones too,

I can settle our debts!”

Perplexed, wrinkling her nose

And crossing her arms,

“What mushrooms you been at, mum?

The ones betwixt the Paddington farms?”

“Don’t be daft, don’t be silly!

They all poured out

When I split the beast’s belly.

Puppies, puppies galore,

They all tumbled out,

Midst the brine, bones,

And gore.

Now our purses shall fill

And our hearts be relieved.

Oh, lord wadda blessing,

Wadda gift we received!”

A catfish with a hunger for puppies…

Who would have believed…