Six Pack To Go is my effort at some humor. I send out a challenge – can you write something
funnier? My inspiration for this poem is my grandson and the girls that fought over him. My
grandson started a martial arts class at the age of seven. By the time he was eight, he had a
‘six pack’ ( well-developed ab muscles), plus blonde hair, blue eyes, slender, tall, great
personality. Not a bragger or ‘womanizer’, in fact just quiet and confident, still he drove the
Sent my daughter in the store
For just a six pack to go,
Can’t wait a very long time,
I am so thirsty, you know.
Dug deep in my old wallet,
I gave her my last twenty,
Some pretzels, too, that enough?
Sure, she said, this is plenty.
Sunny day started out warm,
Now, it was getting too hot,
Young woman came out the door,
I grinned, daughter? it was not.
Another gal, looked like her,
Gal madder than a wet hen,
She flipped someone off inside,
Said, glad she is not my friend!
Burning rubber she took off,
Tore out of the parking lot,
Waited a little longer,
Inside my car was too hot.
Went in the store, hurry up!
I called to daughter, come on!
She was flirting with Max’s son,
Nice young guy, name is Ron.
She gave him my last twenty,
Bye, Mom! They ran out the door,
Hey! come back here now daughter,
Stood there with Max in his store.
Seems the two gals were fighting,
Over a six pack to go,
Over beer? there is a lot here!
Oh! No, said Max, my son’s show.
What show? His fine abs said Max,
Both gals wanted a six pack,
And Ron took off his tee shirt,
He needed money for gas.
Your daughter won, so they date,
Can I charge a six pack, Max?
He quickly took off his tee shirt,
I got one here, glad you asked.
© 2017 Phyllis Doyle Burns
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