Going for the Gold **

Photo by Rachel Claire on Pexels.com
Margie* told a little lie,
Fleeced those who did not know.
And everywhere that Margie went, 
The lie was sure to go.
*Marjorie Taylor Greene

It followed her to Washington.
It spread and spread and spread.
The hospitals filled with Covid deaths
In states the color red.

Sean Hannity said, “Get a vax.”
And so did Valentine*.
But Margie wouldn't know the truth
If it bit her from behind.
*Phil Valentine, conservative talk show host

I hope this rhyme does not offend,
It is not meant to do.
It's only that we can't pretend 
Fake facts will get us through. 

And why, you say, a send up
Of Mary's Little Lamb.
False claims did plague its author, though
She'd published her iamb.

Eighteen thirty was the date 
On Mrs. Hale's book.
'Twas nineteen twenty-eight, about, when
Old Ford* had a look.
*Henry Ford, famous for cars and conspiracy theories

He wrote that Hale plagiarized
The poem she’d published first.
The lie went out across the land.
This fib was not Ford’s worst.

His may have rivaled Margie's lies,
Though, that I do not know.
But at the time, he did his part 
Mean chaos here* to sow.
*Via his newspaper, Dearborn Independent

Nineteen twenty-seven saw
Him hateful towards the Jews.
The case, it went before the court.
The judge decried his views. 

Ford used slave labor overseas
To build in German towns.
Despite his past apologies, 
The liar doubled down.

So now we come to Margie's “facts,”
The same The Donald told.
Like Henry Ford they watch folks die,
While piling up the gold.

**Next week will be a drabble.

It Could Happen Anywhere

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In the closet where pillows were stored for the pandemic, stuffing lay scattered. Fabric soiled. So many had become mouse nests.

When first furloughed, the smart-looking cushions had done humorous impressions of the Nobel prize winners whose rears they recalled. Now that their padding had thinned, their numbers were also thinning. The best rotated among the dining room chairs. Not every guest could have a back support.

“Listen here,” the plumpest whispered. “A mouse ran under the Queen’s chair .”

The others cried in unison, “Where will it end?”

The door opened. Pussy Cat walked in. “I hear you’ve got problems.”

Let Him Catch a Wink

Photo by Krish Chaitu on Pexels.com

Willie seemed embarrassed. “Mrs. Winkie’s suggestion. Some kaffeeklatsch nonsense.”

Several curious dads shifted on their barstools. “The neon yellow nightgown? Their idea?”

“Yeah. Said the kids would pay attention. I came up with the lantern and stopping in here afterwards.”

“So you don’t go all through the town.” The guy speaking had bags under his eyes.

“ Nah, that’s an exaggeration. Just my street.” Willie took a sip from his beer.

“Do the kids get into bed by eight?” Same guy. Seemed hopeful.

“Yeah, absolutely. Everything’s quiet when I get home.” Willie warmed to his subject. “And it’s cured my insomnia.”