Let Satirical Mama entertain you. Biting, controversial, satirical and witty are the best ways to describe the multitude of lenses through which I observe the world I live in.
www.satiricalmama.com & Satirical Mama are owned & operated by & reflect the views of Naomi Elana Zener, author of Deathbed Dimes (available worldwide: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Indigo, iTunes).
Saturday, 20 June 2020
Little Pink Beetle by Naomi Elana Zener
“Ouch” she yelled. Vision blurred.
“Vanity is pain,” was overheard.
Little Pink Beetle stared into a mirror,
Her front lights shining a little less clearer.
Above her headlights she batted new lashes.
Her mascara applied without any splashes.
With a spoiler to match her custom paint,
Souped up Beetle made plain cars faint.
Pretty, shiny, and as vain as could be.
Little Pink Beetle drove wild and carefree.
Engine roared driving down the road.
“Splat!” went the body of a big green toad.
Toad croaked, eyes rolled back in head
Little Pink sped off, leaving Toad for dead.
Taking a selfie from behind the wheel.
Pink hit a pig, and piggy went “squeal!”
“My bad,” Pink cried, still rolling along.
Blaring on her radio a techno song.
Turkey said “Gobble!” “Quack!” went Duck.
“Learn to drive!” said a blue dump truck.
“Watch out!” meowed Cat with her litter of kittens.
“Your wheels don’t need their fur for mittens!”
“Moo!” said Cow “Don’t turn me into steak.”
“Use the pedal on the left, it’s called a brake!”
“Sorry,” Pink cried, “I’m in a hurry.”
“Big car show to get to, I gotta scurry!”
All of a sudden a loud crash was heard
“I smashed my face,” Little Pink slurred.
Her fancy paint stripped, headlights now bare,
All of the animals stopped to gape and stare.
“Help, help,” Pink wailed with all her might,
Giving Horse, Hen, and Sheep a giant fright.
No beast offered to pick up her front grill,
Since each had escaped being her roadkill.
Lying bereft, smashed up in a ditch,
A dog walked by and called Pink a bitch.
“Why should we help you?” Horse queried of Pink.
“You drive crazy fast, think your shit don’t stink.”
Her eyes naked, free from fake lash extensions.
Little Pink Beetle lost all airs and pretensions.
Pink said “I’m sorry, I’ll change, I promise.” But each critter stood there a doubting Thomas.
“No more makeup, fast driving, or fancy paint,”
The little Beetle swore that she’d now be a saint.
Valuing friends and life more than beauty and fame.
Pink saw her erred ways and hung her hood in shame.
Horse, Duck, Hen, Sheep, Cow, Turkey, and even Pig.
Nodded heads, gathered ‘round Pink, and started to dig.
Pulled out from the trench into which she was cast,
Thanking the wild things by which she’d drove past.