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Tuesday, August 23, 2011

#235 Thirst of the Prairie Dog

The truck
Was stuck
Deep in the muck
But that cowboy
Just didn’t give a fuck

He was kicked back
In the bed
Strumming his guitar
And singing
Songs that a prairie dog
Could howl to

We stand up
One at a time
Amused by his singing
Horrified by his rhymes
And wondering
How much beer
He has with him

Our prairie dog clan
Numbered two and twenty
Have acquired a taste for the brew
Thanks to a careless delivery driver or two

They leave their trucks idling
As they talk on their phone
We sneak up and open the door
And take what we can carry

Patiently we wait
Popping up to check on things
One by one
Until sure enough
The cowboy passed out

Moving as one group
We move in to his truck
Stepping lightly in the muck
To steal all the beer
That we can carry