Where’s the Beef?

Town living is a blessing.
I can walk almost everywhere;
the shops, chemist and to bingo.
But a house right on the
High Street is not without issues.

It’s dark, it’s after ten PM
and my door bell rings.
Local kids are bored again.
Playing “knock and run”.
But without any actual running.

Again with the ding-dong.
Trouble is no one talks to kids.
I’ve seen “them hooded tops”
on Music Television at the pub.
I’ve listened to how they talk.

As I zip up my cardigan
It goes a third time. Persistent.
Very well, I shall answer them.
Flinging the door wide I shout
“So, where’s the beef, mobo?”

I look into each hood in turn.
Half a dozen blank faces.
Then one, a young girl (I think),
Says “Laterz Grandpa” and
They all move off laughing.

Smiling with my success,
I shout after them (as they do)
“That’s large, moobs!”
And then close my door.
You’ve just got to speak their language.

- o O o -

This was inspired by, and written for the Ad Lib Group Writing Project run by Randa Clay.

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