by Mike Berger
The nuclear reactor went haywire. They
contain it before melt down. It, however,
released a blast of radioactive gas.
A vineyard was directly in its path. The
grapes absorbed a massive dose. They
immediately mutated. There soft white
skin turned turquoise; they were as rough
as a cob. They grew monstrous mouths.
They ballooned into enormous size; each
grape a Volkswagen bug. They broke free
from their vines and advanced on our town.
I watched one of them eat a yeller dog;
then it came after me.
Those grapes marched in precision,
gobbling as they went. Terrified people
fled. A group of scientists suggested that
we torch them, turning them into raisins.
One sage scientist had a better idea;
Why not set traps for them. Throw
them in a press and turn them into
wine?
© 2010 Mike Berger. All rights reserved.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mike Berger, PhD, is bright, articulate, handsome and extremely humble. You can see more of his works here.
