It started the week of

Pilgrim’s potatoes

Something was eating my

Countertop tomatoes

The options were two

And neither was nice

It was either a big rat

Or a bunch of small mice

Little pellets of evidence

Had made me aware

I had to do something

So I got out the Hardware

I set out some traps

With fresh cheese for the bait

And retired to bed

Having sealed the pest’s fate

But the critters were smarter

Than the trap I had set

They sprung the food free

And won mousetrap roulette

So I went to plan B

And loaded tomatoes with green

Pellets of rat doom

A vascular guillotine

I set the bombs out

On the fence line they travel

With the hope that their appetite

Would soon begin to unravel

Within a few days

The verdict was in

The pests were discovered

And placed in a bin

My tomatoes were safe

Or so I had thought

Just two days later something

Ate the new ones I bought

I returned to the battle

And baited tomatoes anew

This time on my counter

My culinary coup

The bait worked it magic

Ratbert would no longer return

Except for his ghost

An odiferous concern

I looked in the cupboards

Behind the oven and sink

Old Ratbert was laughing

Because he left me his stink

Another day passed

As Ratbert’s legacy grew

The kitchen was smelling

Like spoiled rodent stew

Finally I found him

As his stench led the way

Now Ratbert is resting

Without his bouquet

Three bucks a pound

Using tomatoes as bait

Old Ratbert was pricey

To bio terminate

Copyright 2010 Patrick Granfors