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Breathless And Fried
by John Yelavich

I’ve got a hot date
with a fine looking chick;
my good looks will dazzle her
won’t need my bag of tricks.

Oh, but my mind is frazzled
I’m in a big fix,
no clean threads to wear,
I’ll look like a hick.

My clothes dryer gasped,
went on the fritz;
it sputtered and smoked
calling it quits.

My shorts are wet
giving me fits.
They stick to the chair
whenever I sit.

Anxiety attack looming,
I’m sweating and nervous,
I’ll call the repairman
for immediate service.

On Monday, at 4:05
a technician arrives,
he opens the back cover,
we’re immediately surprised.

Beneath flashlight’s glow
a chipmunk is spied,
encircled in frayed wires,
leaving him breathless and fried.

Respectfully we remove him
to lay him at rest;
we bid him adieu
in a trash bag lined nest.