Tim Armour Poem: Just desserts

Six victims of monogamy,
Escaped to Lake Temagami.
The purpose of this expedition?
Relaxation, drinkin’, fishin’.
Yet two could not just cut and run.
Each took in tow a teenage son.
Each year they ventured on this quest
To lands the Manitou has blessed
With walleye, trout, and northern pike,
All found within an easy hike.
Each year they’d bring their favourite treats,
Of pies and cakes and other sweets.
Each year the boys would get them first
And gorge themselves till fit to burst.
This year one parent came prepared
He’d bake a cake he had declared,
A “Betty Crocker Snackin Mix”
To which he’d add a secret fix.
Vanilla cake so moist and light,
With chocolate chips in every bite.
That bar of Ex-Lax chopped to bits,
Would surely be a fitting blitz.
Surprise attacking from behind
Seemed apt reprisal for their kind.
At Camp Canusa they’d ensconce,
T’would serve as home base for the nonce.
An ancient propane oven stove
Would work to bake this Trojan trove
they settled in with gear and goods,
took solace in those northern woods.
A veg lasagna for their sup
Was loved by all who ate it up.
Dessert that night was simple fare,
Good cookies made by Mr. Dare.
But after all the sups were noshed,
And after dinner plates were washed,
The sapid scent of baking cake
Then filled that cabin by the lake.
And when the timer bell did chime
To indicate that it was time
To open up the oven wide
And take that cake out from inside
Two teenaged boys stood idly by
With many a whimper, whine and sigh,
But Pa took it upon himself,
To place it on the cooling shelf.
He said that none may take a bite,
This cake was for tomorrow night
The boys were warned in his next breath,
They’d suffer some fate worse than death.
“Oh, woe betide the sorry bum
That steals so much as one cake crumb.”
A tea towel cover kept out flies
And shielded it from prying eyes.
Of course, this all served to incite
The boys to action through the night.
When morning dawned the cake pan sat,
Beneath its tea towel just like that.
The only difference, came the dawn?
Beneath the tea towel the cake was gone!
An early breakfast starts the day,
When fishing is what’s on your tray.
The dads then hired one extra boat,
To leave the boys alone afloat.
Upon a bay called Shiningwood,
The word was fish were bitin’ good.
The two boats motored through the mist,
As teenaged boys felt tummies twist.
Perhaps some 50 times or more,
That little boat would head for shore.
Upon a tiny rocky isle,
Those poor boys purged their very bile.
At times the shore was out of reach,
Or missing marge were boats may beach.
Their adults in the bigger boat,
Were witness to a scene afloat.
Those boys receiving their reward,
With backsides hanging overboard.
All day those boats did putt about,
Just close enough to hear a shout.
When all aboard had made their catch,
Then back to camp they did dispatch.
The boys told of their tummy woes,
And blamed the pasta for their throes.
A parent of an errant son,
Is justified to have some fun.
“My tummy’s fine,” said culprit dad,
“We ate the same food as you had.”
The boys then caught each other’s eye,
The penny dropped right from the sky.
They knew right there who’d done the deed,
Yet they were prey to their own greed.
They vowed they’d not repeat their gaffe,
While all there shared a belly laugh.