Larry And The Chipmunk

Larry And The Chipmunk

My cousin Larry was handsome and tall
He’d come every Christmas, to visit us all,
He’d bring with him tales of hunting and such
His rifles and bows were forbidden to touch.

One Christmas eve, he took me and my brother,
Out with him hunting, which ticked off my Mother
She made sure her “babies” were well protected,
With bread bags and snow boots, the cold was deflected.

He took us out back, we walked half a mile,
To where several apples were stacked in a pile
He built up a wall of wet snow for a blind
That Larry, my brother and me hid behind.

It seemed for an hour the forest was bare,
Not even a snow bird saw fit to light there.
But soon after that, we saw a chipmunk,
Munching on apples, and then came a skunk.

We tried to be silent as silent could be,
And soon the skunk wandered off in the trees.
Since the chipmunk lingered, and didn’t take flight,
Larry steadied his rifle, had the chipmunk in sight.

He handed the rifle to my frightened brother
Who never was violent in one way or other.
In sheer frozen terror, he squeezed at the trigger.
The rifle kicked back, with gusto and vigor

My brother flew backwards, and off came his glasses
His nose trickled blood like winter molasses,
Larry was proud, he screamed “You did it, Jim!”
But in his deep haze, Jim heard “Shoot it again!”

So my brother rose up, and pointed the gun
And shot it again, as Larry stood stunned.
The chipmunk lay still, bereft of a head,
And like my poor brother, it bled and it bled.

We bundled it up, in a spare bread bag,
My cousin was laughing at the meal we had tagged.
He tried to make jokes as we headed back;
“He’ll taste good with gravy,” he said with no tact.

Mom cooked up the chipmunk, but I could not bear,
To eat something so recently covered with hair.
We quietly sat, as our young stomachs tossed,
Perhaps it’s a good thing that Mom burnt the sauce!


Exactly 40 lines