Scribblers Ring

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!