One late night at The Watering Hole,
The barn owl hooted This is Last Call!
At the end of the bar feeling just fine,
Was Gimbelstein the blind porcupine.
Now porcupines can be funny creatures,
They're quite social despite their features.
Gimbelstein tends to be friendlier than most,
A pickled blind porcupine jovial host.
On this one particular occasion,
He didn't need additional persuasion.
He was now down to his very last nickle,
And found the barn owl to be somewhat fickle.
So Gimbelstein stumbled on his way,
Deciding he'd return another day.
On his way home he ran into,
PJ the Skunk who was drunk too.
Now the only thing worse than a skunk that's drunk,
Is happening to find a blind pickled porcupine.
PJ Skunk bowed and said how do you do?
Sensing him polite, Gimbelstein bowed too.
Now PJ had eaten before getting started,
And when he bowed, accidentally farted.
Though Gimbelstein blind and somewhat obtuse,
He thought maybe PJ some mother's loose goose.
Suddenly Gimbelstein noticed a ripe smell,
It smelled like a skunk but he couldn't quite tell.
Of course 'ole PJ feeling quite well,
Decided he'd play and simply not tell.
Gimbelstein offered the goose his right paw,
And said that the two of them better not stall.
Smells like a skunk might be coming this way,
We shouldn't get dunked by his awful foul spray.
As PJ took the paw the porcupine held out,
Gimbelstein's needles stood straight and stout.
Poor drunk skunk PJ just never saw,
The porcupine's needles penetrate in his paw.
Of course a skunk's senses are his best defenses,
Hence PJ's best offense was his unpleasant essence.
So quite unintentionally and most unconventionally,
PJ stunk Gimbelstein with his offensive scent.
The blind pickled porcupine didn't seem to mind,
The drunk skunk's tearful yet bearable spray.
He simply assumed that PJ's perfume,
Was some other loose goose's aromic bouquet.
In fact PJ's spice brought tears to both eyes,
Of Gimbelstein the blind and pickled porcupine.
The tears that he cried cleared both his closed eyes,
Suddenly he could see for the very first time.
When he up and realized that PJ had lied,
And wasn't a mother's loose goose at all.
He first felt irate then managed to hesitate,
When he saw his spent needles in poor PJ's paw.
Once he relaxed he then kindly asked,
Could PJ control his droll pungent smell?
PJ replied with a wink of his eye,
Maybe I can, but I'll never tell.
The pickled porcupine couldn't really find,
Any sound reason they couldn't prove friends.
After all, the drunk skunk's stuck paw,
Was bound to eventually improve and mend.
And as for what stunk, it wasn't skunk gunk,
But simply drunk PJ's flatulent funk.
Gimbelstein confided that he had decided,
He could get used to the unpleasant skunk rump.
The spray, though quite putrid, made his sight lucid,
The tears derived aided him miraculously.
The funk he could handle, the smell and the scandal,
Of a drunken skunk's friendship controversy.
But as for the flatulence, it caused him hesitance,
Gimbelstein wasn't sure what advice to impart.
PJ had confidence that his incontinence,
Was a trite, yet demure, quite innocent fart.
So the skunk PJ maintained his rank pre-spray,
The porcupine Gimbelstein reined in his pins.
They drank together from that day forever,
Two Birds of a feather and drunken close friends.
Copyright © September 2010
Kevin Mooney
kmm001
091510
