The Canary
When my uncle bought me a gift, it was something I had to bury.
When I opened his Christmas present, I received a dead canary.
He put it in a cage and wrapped it on the first day of December.
Feeding and watering it was what the idiot failed to remember.
Cussing and yelling was what my neighbors heard.
When I receive a present, I don't want a dead bird.
When I yelled and cussed, my uncle said that I wasn't showing gratitude.
But when I receive a dead pet for a present, it tends to put me in a bad mood.
My uncle is so dumb that I'm ashamed to admit that we're related.
He was actually surprised when his present was something I hated.
My uncle would win the Nobel Prize if the prize could be for people who are dumb.
He actually suggested that I take the dead bird to the pet store and ask for a refund.
When it comes to dealing with my uncle, my patience is wearing thin.
And I don't ever want to receive a Christmas present from him again.
Copyright © Randy Johnson | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment