Like to Keep my Ride shined Up,
been that Way since was a Pup.
Wash and Wax and View with Pride,
showing Off my Anal Side.
Just this Morning – Looking Great,
never Knowing ‘bout My Fate.
From above was Splattered Thrice,
Hood and then the Windshield Twice.
Attack was Swift – a Bird Sortie,
Bullseye Hit and it was Me!
Cruising safe at Sixty-Five,
Spread around Like it’s Alive.
Figure Birds have Morning Meetings,
Plan their Route for Bombing Greetings.
Guess I’ll just Go Undercover,
strap on Wings – their Plans Discover.
Perhaps become a Morning Cook,
slip Stuff In when They don’t Look.
Pepto-Bismol comes to Mind,
pink Eggs mixed with Bacon Rind.
As they Fly to Drop their Load,
they’ll be Stuck in Panic Mode.
That will Put them In their Places,
on the Ground with Straining Faces.