Competition

Highly Commended

Abreast of the Times
by Milton Taylor

Dear Gracie was an angel, universally admired
For charity and kindness, and we secretly aspired
To be as good as Gracie, who most willingly would give
Her best to make the world we shared a better place to live.

Like many other precious gems, our Gracie had a flaw.
A handicap she carried like an unhealed, weeping sore
Repugnant in its awful form in everything she did;
Her repulsive social handicap, her horrid husband, Sid.

He represented everything his darling wife detested.
Sid would never lend a hand; he wasn't interested
In helping out his fellow man; in truth, Sid was a louse,
A living contradiction of his sweet and saintly spouse.

When Gracie held a function, like a dinner or a ball,
The district rallied to her cause and overflowed the hall,
Where Sid would further earn disgrace by taking any chance
To maul and grope the ladies when he got them up to dance.

Most women knocked his offers back; they’d seen his form before
And the barn dance would disintegrate when Sidney hit the floor.
Too dumb to learn a lesson, he would often bear the brunt
From a husband who'd objected to a grotty 'Siddy' stunt.

Breast cancer's plucky victims were the favourite group for Grace,
And the dinner dance in August saw the locals cram the place,
With Sleazy Sid in prowling mode, like previous occasions,
As he sought a likely prospect for his amorous flirtations.

His hopes were elevated when he sighted at the door
An unescorted lady; Sidney couldn't ask for more.
He slid across to introduce himself and thus impress her,
Whilst in his evil little mind he'd started to undress her.

Delighted, he discovered that his target was the guest;
The after dinner speaker on the subject of the breast
And the dangers quite inherent and the problems that it meant,
While Sid pretended sympathy, which masked his true intent.

He worked her like a sheep dog to the bar and bought a drink.
She listened to his patter and had little time to think
And really had no option when the band began to play,
When Sid propelled her floorward and his game got underway.

He steered her round, and somehow as they danced his fingers passed
None too soft across her hips; then further up he cast
His creeping, questing digits in the region of her bust,
Ignoring her displeasure as he satisfied his lust.

She pushed his tentacles away while grimly smiling, then
Repeated the procedure as the sleazebag tried again;
While Sid, in total ignorance of her utter, foul displeasure,
Continued on his odyssey to mine this hidden treasure.

Call it circumstances, or coincidence maybe,
Some people claim 'twas nothing less than serendipity .
But somehow, as the music stopped and dancers came to rest,
A silence fell, as sometime does; while Sid massaged a chest.

A strident voice boomed out in strains that made the rafters ring.
"If you want it so damn badly, please, just take the bloody thing!"
The guest of honour sweetly smiled then twisted Sidney 's arm
And plopped a large prosthetic breast into his sweaty palm.

It lay there, gently quivering; quivering; like its shame-faced holder,
While the donor grew in confidence. She shrugged a casual shoulder
And heightened Sids discomfort with: "I’m glad I’ve made your day,
There's two boobs here -there's you -and that! Now take it out and play!"

As the scumbag scampered like a rat and vanished in the night,
We heard a gurgling, gagging sound and marvelled at the sight
Of Gracie, in hysterics, buckling, bending at the knees
In witness to embarrassment of slimy Sid the Sleaze.

We never saw old Sid again, he left without a trace
And we reckon it's the greatest gift he'd ever given Grace.
And Gracie's still our heroine, we love her even more,
For now she is a perfect gem, she hasn't got a flaw.