COWBOY POETRY: The Flu Shot

Cowboy poet Bryce Angell

That time of year was here again, the dreaded yearly shot. I let ‘em stick me in the arm. Still, flu is what I got.

Each year I’ve rolled my sleeve up. Then they say, “It’s good for you. Get your flu shot every year. It’s the civic thing to do.”

The Big Guns, where I work, say, “Yearly flu shots are required.” And if you didn’t get the shot, you prob’ly would be fired!

There ain’t no guarantee. It’s all a game of hit and miss. I might as well forgot the shot. I dang sure mean to diss.

My life was running smoothly up till seven days ago. I woke up with a body ache from head down to my toe.

I daresent move my body ‘cuz the pounding in my head gave me affirmation that for sure I’d soon be dead.

With body aches, a fever, and the chills all rolled in one. The flu had done its vile deed. Should someone get a gun?

I even felt the throbbing in my last few strands of hair. I checked the daily obits just to see if I was there.

My wife gave me some cold pills. The instructions said, “Take two.” But I didn’t have a cold ‘cuz I was suffering with the flu.

So, I took two extra cold pills. What the heck, it’s only four. And I was a little feverish. So, I may have taken more.

They’re called hallucinations or that’s what they seemed to be. ‘Cuz the kitchen chandelier was really waving back to me!

For sure it wasn’t real, but it was quite a sight to see. And it sure was nice the chandelier would keep me company.

Well the flu has finally passed. I’m not a death bed candidate. And my feelings ‘bout the flu shot? I say over medicate!

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