Well, we had an incident up to Dot and Tommy’s camp this weekend that was wicked embarrassing. It’s really Charlie’s story to tell, so I’ll let him. After all, he is, by default, the Poet Laureate of Mahoosuc Mills.
Stinkfoot
Sunday last, we took a break
To Dot and Tommy’s, by the lake
All the gang were comin’, too
Tommy planned a barbeque
His plans, alas, were all in vain
When darn, if it began to rain
“Bring the food in!” Tommy cried
And we were forced to move inside
There we ate, and all was well
‘til some of them complained of smell
I thought the hubbub was excessive
But soon the smell became oppressive
Up from her chair, Ida rose
(I guess she’s got the sharpest nose)
She searched for where the smell was comin’
Someone started game show drummin’
She got to me, our eyes did meet
And then she pointed to my feet
As if this were the worst of scandals
Ida shouted, “It’s your sandals!”
Then, of course, I got harassed
Boy, oh boy, was I embarrassed!
Yeah, they stunk, but more than that
I noticed both of them were cracked
“They’re worthless, Charlie!” Ida cried
So I took ‘em both outside
None-the-less, when you inhaled
That sandal smell somehow prevailed
We were eating Rita’s cake
As Tommy looked out on the lake
Then he said, “I got a plan!”
The rain let up, and off we ran
He found some rope, plenty thick
And lashed those stinkers to a brick
We hopped in nearly every boat
And paddled out beyond the float
We got in close, and from his chair
Tommy said a solemn prayer
“Dear God, we send these to the bottom
Where, I pray, no one’ll spot ‘em!”
My sandals sank, we were cured,
They let me have the final word:
“On the bottom’s where they’re lyin’
Hope the fish don’t all start dyin’!”
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: Stinkfoot
Come see my new show:
Wicked Good Time, August 6, 13, 20, 27 @7:00, The Footlights Theatre in Falmouth, ME
In case you missed it:
Down to the A&P, August 23 @ 2:30, The Saco River Theatre in Buxton, ME