Farmer Hillbilly III Was Not A Passenger

Just sit right back
And I'll type a tale
A tale that is filled with woe
That started from Hillmomba in
A shiny black Tahoe.
The driver was Hillbilly Mom
The Pony rode along
Two Hillbillies set out this day
To The Devil's Playground
The Devil's Playground.

The roads were covered with packed ice
But T-Hoe did survive
All the obstacles put in his path by the
People who cannot drive
People who can't drive

The Tahoe set tire on the lot
Of the Devil's Playground store
With Ma HM
The Pony too
A Hillmomban
And her son
But nobody else came along
To The Devil's Playground

So here is the tale of our poor shoppers
They were there for a long long time
They couldn't speed up that Handmaiden
Who wasted all their time

Ma HM and The Pony too
Sure did their very best
To exit from that sad Playground
To leave that clusterfest

Diet Coke and three onion burgers
Were taken to Grandma
To make her feel more comfortable
Until the arctic thaw

They venture there each week my friends
To stock up on supplies
It's trying and a big butt pain
Those Devil's weekly buys.

Oh, dear. Such a trip to town today, with the frozen roads and piles of snow and idiots in giant trucks and the worst Devil's Handmaiden ever. I was in line for 20 minutes. TWENTY MINUTES! It didn't take that long to shop! There were only two checkers at my end, except for the 20-or-less Handmaidens. Of course I picked the wrong one. I wanted to curl up in the cart with my head on my buns and take a little nap. The Pony was done with his game-playing for two dollars. I had not brought in any more cash. So I let him go out to T-Hoe while I waited the final ten minutes. Oh. And it took even more time to ring me up. That was just the in-line time.

But that was not the end of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's thwarting. We got behind a backhoe coming out of town. That was a mile and a half at under 10 mph. T-Hoe does not know how to go under 10 mph. AND, coming up the driveway, turning onto the flat slab behind the garage, we got stuck momentarily, until the automatic 4WD kicked in, lunging us toward the garage opening, with The Pony shouting, "THE MIRRORS!" I push-buttoned them flat just in time.

At least I'm not stranded on a desert isle.