So dark and dreary storm coming again,
just cannot sleep tried a round of shooting sheep.
Ran out of bullets and killed Miss Bo peep.
Now I have to go to Wal-Mart, can't win
can't sleep and I am tired of shooting sheep.
Oh so ominous and dreary a storm is coming.
Walking back from Wal-Mart got my bullets,
got my gun, ready for the good times to come.
A clattering scattering of cans in the alley
was that a hiss? Ooh, what is in the alley?
Chitinous skitter sharp claws on concrete
blackness that glitters and shivers replete,
with the dripping of ichors from meat.
Mandibles glisten in vague half-light.
The crack and crackling of bones
something is feeding in the alley tonight.
Is it another lost tourist far from home?
Well it is dangerous to wander Houston alone.
Yes something is feeding in the alley tonight
by the sound of the crunch and rapidity of munch;
a three hundred pounder would be my hunch.
Well look it is done with lunch.
It is done, yet I am itching and twitching so
just like my finger, quivering, on the trigger...of my gun.
No need to creep it knows I am here, oh dear!
I think I have it puzzled it smells no fear.
Then with a clatter and a shriek meant to shatter
my will... it comes.
A chitin mass an armored maul,
it leaps off dumpster careens past wall, no!
This ones at least five hundred pounds, so!
Thankful I am for those new Teflon rounds
that my buddy from Wal-Mart found.
The bark of my revolver continuous taps.
Pieces of chitin sale around like bats.
And there in the corner a reeking twittering pile,
oozing a gelatinous slime mixed with bitter bile.
The cooling corpse of a five hundred pound
Now there is only the sound
of my knife claiming the trophy sized prize.
This head will put the gleam of envy in all my friend's eyes.
And you wonder why we carry guns in Texas.