P B, Jelly, and Sweet Pickle Sandwich

It was a night like any other June night,
or so it seemed when we began our walk.
Yet the dogs sensed something wasn’t right.
They wouldn’t follow me; they chose to balk.

It was well past midnight – dark and still.
We had barely left the yard when I first
heard the flapping, a sound I never will
forget, a sound so evil and truly cursed.

Before my eyes this creature, this flying
monster, all wings and beak, with eyes
glowing red, swooped down, began trying
to carry off poor Pepper to his sure demise.

I rushed to aid my old Shih Tzu but too late.
Away into the night sky the creature flew
with Pepper in its grasp. My great weight
would keep me safely on the ground, I knew,

but Rusty, my fat, old Corgi, might prove too
light. I led the dog under the canopy of a giant
oak tree, there to make a stand. Let them do
their worst! The creatures would find me defiant.

Like locust, the creatures – pterodactyls I swear –
swooped down on great, flapping wings to land
all around us. As they hopped ever closer, despair
filled my heart. These beasts could kill any man.

Old Rusty and I truly put up one magnificent fight.
I screamed. I flailed. Yet, before long we were through…
My wife shook me awake. “Blame your snack tonight.
There’ll be no more PBJ and pickle sandwiches for you!”



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