Scuttle the Bombing Run

I like to Keep my Ride shined Up,
been that Way since was a Pup.
Wash and Wax and View with Pride,
probably Shows 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 That 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,
and Slip stuff In when They don’t Look.
Pepto-Bismol comes to Mind,
say Pink Eggs and 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.

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