Cathy (Old Karl's Book of Fashionable People)

Cathy Horyn was a high faultin' critic,
(Some say she was an acrobat!)
She made the rounds, wearing a beanie as her hat,
And a hip flask filled with gin and tonic

Yet bacon muffins were her game- she dreamt of them at night,
(When she'd tucked her clothes from Walmart far out of site),
In the mornings she'd make them, after pruning the roses,
And a visit from a plump lady who claimed to read her blog:

"My name is A.Cat.Lady" said the woman with a grin,
And she wore a dress of florals, as middle aged women do,
"I adore your blog! I love it!" she exclaimed frightfully,
As Cathy backed away- said she had to go to sea

"But do you have a new recipe?" was what our floral lady said next,
As drool fell down her chin as she imagined things with bacon
Well- Cathy was tempted, I don't need to tell you that,
As she popped inside with a notebook, and revealed her carefully hidden stash:

"This is my new recipe!" laughed Cathy oh so deeply*,
"It is a bacon flavoured wine!" she announced, as her admirer regarded her meekly
"Oh great Cathy! You're the hero! The hero of New York!"
As the Pea- travelling in his moped, stopped in for a gawk

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, my finely adorned friends?"
-the Pea jumped out of his pea-green moped and flexed his manly muscles, and fixed Cathy with a fiendish glare
"How nice of you to join us!", Cathy wearily spoke,
In her deep monotone voice- it looked like the Pea had seen a ghost,
"I am telling this badly dressed, floral, dumpling-shaped middle aged woman my recipe for wine-"
"I see"
"But not just any wine, oh no! For it is bacon flavoured wine."
"I shall have to take a photo" said the Pea, turning green
As Cathy turned her attention to the pie simmering on the windowsill,
And I felt self-satisfaction, in the fact that I don't eat

*Whilst turning around to Julie Anne and saying "Go to Barnard!"

The Pea (Old Karl's Book of Practical Fashionable People, Part 1)

Of peas, there are none to equal
A certain pea I know,
Who carries around a camera,
And has a manly baritone

He stands on top of flower pots,
He stands on top of two,
To get his shot for the book,
He might even take a picture of you!

If you are lucky, traveller,
You may find him in Paris,
Where he sits with many other peas,
And discusses lemon-green tea,

His voice can be heard from the rooftops-
"Come! Fashion-seekers, and see!"
Says he in his deep voice, full of heroism
"I shall take a photo of thee!"

His shirt- it rips apart,
As he gets his camera out,
And his stands upon a flower pot,
And clicks his button with a shout

"For I am the pea!"
(says he)
As he quips about his prowess in bed,
And his ten million thousand suits

"Hooray for the pea!" cries an audience,
Abound with joyful cheer,
"Hooray for the pea! Hooray for the pea!"
As they drown in bottles of fashionable beer