When I was six, I dreamed I met God,
he was radiant but I was speechless, and
a little nervous...

God spoke, "What are your sins, son?"

I said, where do I possibly begin?

When I was just a tender young tot,
I threw my Granny's precious silverware outside, practically non-stop...

At age one, I hid her favorite dentures, under the bed and put itching powder in her hair, then I fled!

Ahh, yes,

let's see, at age two I put some whoopee cushions, on her rocking chair and laugh and giggle, when she launched herself into the air...

Sir, at three, I dug holes in my grand-
mother's front lawn, then she proceeded to whup my butt from dusk all the way to dawn...

Howling with glee and vigor, I dug holes with zeal, like a soldier digs foxholes or a cool navy seal!

But my dear old Granny, bless her soul,
didn't find my digging a worthy benefit or goal. Oh no, she was furious and ahh, quite upset and she quickly made sure I didn't ever forget.

With a whoop and a hollar, she took me aside and gave me a whupping I couldn't abide. From dusk to dawn, she wacked my poor, tender backside,

until my butt felt like a piece of raw cowhide!

My sore behind made me want to dive,
into a pool of ice but I snuck in the kitchen and ate all her favorite desert, whip cream & apple pie...

Sir, I apologize, but at age four I place
her cat's tail in a mouse trap until he howled like a coyote or maybe a wild boar!

My friends and I at age five, played soccer games, kicking every watermelon inside Granny's just planted garden, all through the fun-filled night.

By the time I reached age six, I had a sore behind, oh what a fix. But I learned my lesson.

Oh, yes, I did and never again did I dig like a stupid kid.

So if you're a kid tempted to dig a hole,
remember my story and save your soul...

For the Wrath of Granny is not to be ignored and a sore behind is your only

Just reward...





© Charles Kemp