Fried Squirrel in Disguise
My sister and I sat down to supper
looking at our plates we asked
do you need some sweet butter?
Now, we loved squirrel for it was delicious
it tasted like southern fried chicken
and mama could cook it real good
she made it crispy, brown, and finger lickin’.
and said to mama in plaintive unison
this doesn’t taste like fried squirrel
mama- it tastes nasty and gruesome!
We stood our ground and said,
you take a taste and you’ll see
this is no squirrel like we’ve ever had
it tastes yucky gross, and smells like pee.
Mama gave in and none too soon
she let us leave the dinner table
then tried to feed it to our dad
for he had killed this first raccoon.
What mama didn’t know at the time
was that coons have musk sacs
and if you don’t remove them
and then you can’t eat it.
when you made us fried squirrel
that tasted and smelled
like a masked raccoon’s piss?
Author’s Note: The prompt today is to write a poem retelling a family anecdote. This was one my mother never lived down!