Toadworks

The sign said, toadworks ahead.
Better slow down, said my missus,
They squat on your life, toadworks do.
How do they do that? I was curious.
I don't know, they just do.
Well known fact. Once they're on,
you can't get them off. Not without
a lot of scraping. Even a witty
pitchfork isn't up to the job.

How come you know so much about it?
I asked, forgetting to slow down.
Oh, my uncle used to keep them.
Like pigeons they are, always
know their way home. And you can't
get rid of them. Like giant hogweed.
I tried to imagine a cross between
a pigeon and a giant hogweed.
I failed. They are as God made them,

I said piously. The toadworks were
almost upon us now, rushing towards us
at the speed of car. My wife screamed,
but that's nothing out of the ordinary.
Are they an endangered species? I asked,
pressing my foot down in gleeful
anticipation. There were a few satisfying
splats and squelches, then something
attached itself to my back.

It gets on quite well with the
albatross around my neck.