Today I met an alien,
A really decent kind of guy,
A shade of blue with three arms,
Two feet and one big buggy eye.
I was fixing a hole in my roof
When he hit my weathervane,
He yelled, “Where can I park this rig?”
And I thumbed him over to Feather Lane.
The heat index was one-oh-one
And I thought I’d had a stroke,
I stumbled down off the ladder
Half-hoping it was a joke.
I called old Charlie on Pine Street
And told him to bring the beer,
I mentioned we had a visitor
“Roof’s not gettin’ fixed this year.”
The alien fellow waddled
As he walked over to my yard,
He apologized profusely
Handing me his insurance card.
Charlie came walking down the road
Carrying a case of beer or two,
He didn’t come alone, of course
He brought his Yorkie-Poo.
The alien looked flabbergasted
“Whazzat, Whazzat, Whazzat,” he cried,
He claimed he’d never seen a dog
Well, not one that wasn’t fried.
I tried to explain the best I could
Without telling a fallacy,
It was a long haired, curly tailed mutt
with exceptional quality.
The dog was worth a fortune
More than a labradoodle,
That’s what they told old Charlie
When he bought the silly noodle.
The dog yapped at the alien
Causing our friend to jump with fright,
Then the pooch bounced about the lawn
With playful joy and great delight.
That’s a Yorkie-Poo, to you
A mixture of Poodle and Yorkie,
Born with a snarky attitude
Sassy, quirky and corky.
“Charlie, hand me a tennis ball!
Watch! This dog has an affliction,
He loves squeaky flying toys
Chasing them is his addiction.”
I bounced the ball upon the ground
And commanded the dog to sit,
He did as he was told to do
While he quivered and shook a bit.
I threw the ball fast and far
And I yelled for the pup to “fetch”,
All I saw was a flash of blue
As the alien’s neck could stretch.
The blue guy was round and squat
His belly nearly touched the ground,
Keeping his torso firmly in place
As his head chased after the hound.
The dog caught the tennis ball
He clenched it within his mouth,
The alien caught the Yorkie-poo
And from there it all went south.
A few short gulps was all it took
For the Yorkie to disappear,
Down the gullet of the alien
Who snapped back like a spear.
It took a sec to unpuzzle it
I said, “Uhm, Sir, but ex-cuse me,
Could you spit out the Yorkie-Poo
You see, it belongs to my friend, Charlie.
Charlie, of course, was burning red
As his best friend had just been eaten,
By an alien with one big eye
Someone he had just been greetin’.
“Yum, yum, yum,” said the alien
As he rubbed his round fat belly,
“It’s been a while since I had a dog
However, they’re best with jelly.”
Something got lost in translation
‘Cause the alien seemed quite proud,
He appeared to look a bit confused
When Charlie shouted out loud.
“Give me back my Yorkie-poo
He loves me and brings me glee,
He sticks close to me like Velcro
In everything, even when I pee!”
“I’ll be lost without my best friend
I don’t know what I shall do,”
He picked up his nerf ball launcher
Crying, “It’s useless without my poo!”
I repeated, “Excuse me, Sir,
Please vomit the Yorkie-poo,
The fur ball with the floppy ears ,
It’s upsetting to you know who.”
I pointed over to Charlie
Who was raining buckets of tears,
“The fancy mutt was his best friend
I believe, for six whole years.”
A light turned on above him
As the alien got the hint,
He tossed up the Yorkie-poo
Who sprang out in a sprint.
The alien apologized
For thinking it was a barbecue,
When he saw Charlie bring the beer
He thought the dog was on the menu.
Charlie was beyond surprised
And happier than could be,
The pup and his friend did a jig
And they both did a little wee.
The puppy dog had never let go
Of his favorite toy of all,
Clenched between his canine teeth
Was his yellow tennis ball.
It’s okay not to understand
Things only Yorkie owners know,
Yorkie’s aren’t like other dogs
Because they always steal the show.
About the Creator
I’m an advocate for education and equal health care. I love satire. I love to express myself through art and writing. Social issues fascinate and astound me. Co-founder of Art of Recycle.