John F. McCullagh

Veteran Poet - 1,203 Points [The Hobbit] (09/28/1954 / Flushing)

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They’re a militant group of foodies of whom we live in constant dread.
They’re not ones to be satisfied with bribes of jam and bread.
They’re like a pack of locusts, descending on Food Mart.
Soon not a Twinkies left alive, just wrappers in the park.
They started out as teenagers staring at an open fridge.
The concept of “leftovers” they view as a sacrilege.
They’ll eat you out of house and home and leave you not a crumb.
You thought your cookie stash was safe, but now you’re feeling numb.

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