To commemorate the last day of our A Dish Called “Wanda” contest – and there are still a few hours remaining, by the way! – the inimitable Peggy Dobbs sends us this poetic tribute to those bold writers who have taken up our challenge. If you’re one of the authors, you’ll get a giggle out of seeing your work in rhyme – if not, read the stories so you can giggle, too!

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Wanda’s Writing Contest

Mac and I were musing the contest.

We must use a line given by Thorn.

“It’s not tuff,” Thorn said. “Work it in, you wimps!”

He teased through his Editor-in-chief bull-horn.

The locals warned me about Wanda’s,

but why was there reason to fear?

As an example:  I have a Guardian Angel

who is heart-close and ever-near.

Everyone thinks so differently

as we pick up pen and ink,

To write the words our brains ooze out

tied together like a sausage link.

Some stories are deep and weighty,

others funny, silly or inane.

Each unique as the one who wrote them,

different, as each cloud-tear in the rain.

I wonder… does Wanda lure with addicting sweets

in the form of coconut cake?

When whatever lures us as our road must surely fork,

Is it not our choice always to make?

Maybe Wanda is a gigantic gorilla,

with a bar where the thirsty dare.

Maybe a Wanda is a “Witchy Woman”

with long and tangling hair.

Perhaps it’s a place to throw the dice,

greedy hands longing for one more toss,

Begging some unknown entity of luck,

“Please…not another loss!”

Could she be a “plus-sized” barber,

Polyester pink with red hair,

Whose only talent is one-inch hair styles,

lonely, in her barber’s chair?

What if her specialty is “soggy fries”

and the path to them is through an alley.

Would you follow a barker blindly,

dreaming it’s a Roman valley?

Could felines be drawn to Wanda’s,

dozing where roaches play?

Would you eat her food without asking,

“What did the Health Dept. say?”

Let’s gallop back to the West, in time.

Wanda travels as she will.

A saloon filled with drinking cowboys

and loose girls for a little thrill.

A Bounty Hunter comes into Wanda’s,

a Colt strapped to his hip.

He plays poker with Monty Decker,

sending him on his last trip.

Children love to hear bedtime stories

told by someone they hold dear.

The “Adventures of Wanda” are always fun

so they have naught to fear.

But as they grow into adulthood,

they find that life just isn’t fair

Watching as loved ones fade away

seems to be more than they can bear.

In the town of Willow Creek,

The arsonists danced the night away.

No fireman in the crowd was seen

as a traveler left at break of day.

It seems that Wanda’s restaurant

could not cook orgasmic grits.

The lack there of threw locals

into  gastro withdrawal fits.

We find Wanda again as a diner,

on the table, a shotgun and wormy bait.

I’m still not sure what the patron was served

or if it wiggled off the plate.

A beastly mammal came flopping in.

With putrid breath to take a bite.

But the patron shot him before dessert.

The shotgun stopped the fight.

This time Wanda’s a beaten-up café,

Captain Redmond’s luring place,

Where his commanding officer arrives

and they’re seated face to face.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” is the official word

but secret MP traps await.

What does “Honor and Duty” really mean

as one decides a soldier’s fate?

WANDA, a “communications network”!

Do you suppose there is such a thing?

NASA could be a supernatural being, listening.

Answer cautiously to your cell phone ring!

But suppose Wanda is a Heavenly Angel,

and her pure love blinds our self-centered eyes.

Suppose our Creator is trying one last time

to light our paths before Creation dies?

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What if, indeed!  It’s the beginning of every great story.