Guns and Hoses
Bryan Davis

My father took my BB gun
I really don’t know why
I only used it as I should
You know I’d never lie.

I hit a can with one fine shot
What could be wrong with that?
Must be because the can was on
The Greely’s stupid cat.

I shot the can; it woke her up
Around the house she flew
It’s not my fault; I didn’t know
How much one cat could do.

Ms. Greely had a candle shop
In a little shack out back
The cat streaked through; her fluffy tail
Got soaked with melted wax

In her fear she kept on flying
For me it was a thrill
But then she jumped for Mr. Greely
Just as he lit the grill

The flames jumped high into the air
Catching her coated tail
It caught on fire and made a torch
She made a smoky trail

Into the house and behind the drapes
She hid, that scaredy-cat
The drapes burned up, she ran again
She dashed this way then that

First the sofa and then the beds
Went up in fire and smoke
Soon the house was engulfed in flames
Now it was time I spoke

I ran to Mom and yelled real loud
“Quick, call 911!”
“The Greely’s cat is setting fires!”
“Shall I shoot it with my gun?”

Mom called for help, the trucks all came
The fire was out like that
The house was gone but they did save
One tired and toasted cat

But then my dad came up to me
And asked me lots of stuff
“But all I did was shoot a can!”
I guess that was enough

So now I sit without my gun
Knowing next time that
My aim won’t be an old tin can
I’ll just shoot the stupid cat

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Categories: Miscellaneous, Poetry

Tags: Author, poetry, Reading