A Whip’s Tale In Rumble Town
Short fiction poetry about delinquency.
Rumble in Humble Town, what’s this hullabaloo shaking, quaking and waking everyone breaking Jeff’s beer, break time is over get back to work, you peasants goes the old hustler, with the whip so hard can’t bear
He swings it here and there, in the air it swooshed it felt like an omen, from hell one that no one wanted dear stay quiet, keep your head down do not let him near or he’ll whip our butts silly, just like the last time you hear when he slapped it silly on poor Milly, oh how she screamed right there
It felt like she wailed, but faked her tears she wanted it you see, she fancied him really weird watching the hustler, as she grabbed his beard making the hustler mad, stroking him like a gear steering him forwards, she got him to spank
Her ass silly, as she enjoyed the right smack the hustler, went mad as he beat her behind hard onlookers didn’t bat an eye, cuz they knew it's her fault meanwhile, Milly, such a silly girl drooled in her fall as the hits of sweet pleasure, made her throw it up
The hustler throw her down and went away to clean while Milly wiping her face and showing a sneer It’s bad as is, you made it so close my dear Old Jeff picks her up and tells her to go home the mine isn’t a place for chicks who think they can get away with beer
Milly throws a fit and pushes Jeff back with a stare walking the pain off, she goes back to old Hustler’s lair she’s back at it again, as Jeff sighs oh dear It’s rumble town, well what can you do here everybody wants a piece of the hustler’s whip, swinging in the air
Thank you so much for reading.






