Never Tease a Weasel
He had a breadstick for a nose
darty eyes, a moving head;
and when he chose to speak, y’all,
slimy sounds were often said.
The guys all called him Weasel
but his real name was Aumen;
a bunch of grapes a’taunting
beneath his pimpled chin.
Why would you tease a weasel?
All the girls would criticize
as they grabbed the sour grapes
flung them in the bullies’ eyes.
Each day to him Russian Roulette
a secret game he played at home,
and despite the animosity
Aumen answered with Shalom.
Until the day his mom caught on
and tried to intervene,
poor Aumen turned the gun on her
raging fire, putrid green.
Perhaps a scare would do the trick
it worked each time he played,
so he grinned and pulled the trigger
then screamed when life did fade.
*Big Tent Poetry
Previous poems about Aumen can be found under the Big Tent Poetry prompts (days listed in Comments)