Slug Gun

December 2007 by Mark Hoffmann

A communist slug - all vegetable ownership is theft -
oozes along the garden path in pursuit of a cabbage fix …
It's not easy being a brassica-holic;
I just take each leaf at a time.  
Oh no!  Some clumsy git has spilt salt round the cabbage patch!
My foot is bloody killing me.
Hang on, hang on, these blue pellets look a bit tasty...
 
Tempted to the garden paradise by the generosity of mankind
the thrush warbles, watching from his treetop perch …
I'm starving, when's that bloke going to put his nuts out?
I'll just whistle while I wait...
Heh, look at that, a fat succulent slug - I'm having that!
Blimey, this big boy's a bit chewy!
 
A man tiptoes to his patch
peas
their pods abound.
He fondles his sprouts, admiring their crinkly coarseness.
And the cabbages, buxom in their bounty;
but what's this? 
A poor dead birdie lying in the mulch.
Oh! Mother Nature is so cruel!