Ode to the Red Bullet

Oh wretched disaster!
Oh horrid concussion of bumpers!
Oh pale, uninsured Honda, like a Spanish bull,
How thee saw crimson and struck–aiming
For the rear assemblage of my noble carriage–
But through the impact struck
My heart.

“Too much damage.”
Oh oil-faced grease hound,
Say ’tis not so!  Turn that key and
Give feathers to my Sable’s
Broken wings!

“Not worth repair.”
What is that you say?
How dare thee place mere
Coin above this metallic beast
Of the road!  This is the Red Bullet;
That collected dings in the doors
Like flies on the windshield; that
Unlike others in its class, needed
No left taillight cover
(Finding clear red tape just
as agreeable) to journey over
Mountains, bridges, and speed bumps;
That lost its passenger side mirror,
Under circumstances that remain a
Mystery to this day,
Without complaint; That ran out of
Gas parked facing uphill, but found the strength
(due in part to its master pushing
with his feet against a concrete wall)
To will itself into a downhill position
(at which point master dashed deliriously to catch up)
Causing it to swallow the
Last drops of fuel,
Like a sweet elixer of life,
And triumph in the igniting of its soul.

For this defeated creature, its
Merciless death, and the indifference
With which its revival was attempted,
I weep.

What’s that you say?  No uninsured
Motorist shall injure my property
Without retribution?  Twenty-eight
Hundred dollars!

Oh glorious collision!
Oh grand and noble sacrifice!
Oh brave and aged Sable,
How in thy infinite wisdom (which
was likely acquired by the mile)
Thou hast found the choicest
Way to thy demise and met it with
Courage!  Thy contribution to my purse (which
ends up being more than thy initial expense)
Maketh only a dent (an art in which well-versed
is thee) in the cost of thy replacement.
But what a timely and unexpected dent
It is!  Rather than going to thy grave
With insistence upon expensive burial,
Thou hast offered thy body as food for the
Village.

As with all great martyrs,
Thy name shall live on
With the one whose inception
Owes all to thy death:

The Silver Bullet

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1 Comment

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One response to “Ode to the Red Bullet

  1. Grant and Amy

    Say not, the trusty chariot halts!
    Life’s pause as we mourn the memories gone by.
    Never forgotten, always revered, Red Bullet will live in our hearts forevermore!!

    Henry, Amy and I are remiss over this loss but overjoyed that just as dust returns to dust, so too will the spirit of the Red Bullet live on in the essence of Silver Bullet.

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