Eating (My Heart) Out While (My Dinner Was) Being Stabbed in the Back

I ate at the Texas-size Roadkillhouse Restaurant
               And I’m sure mighty sorry I did;
I’d heard it was great and the food is the bestaurant— 
               Well, of things they would rather be rid.

The Cut of the Day was the busboy’s big toe
               On a knife that had dropped from the sink;
And the Catch of the Day was caught three weeks ago, 
               And was finally beginning to stink.

The venison steaks had mistakenly strode
               Into headlights on Route I-390;
And I learned that the chicken did NOT cross the road, 
               But was splattered half-way on its heinie. 

As I gagged on the un-appetizers I’d ordered
               I could hear death-throe screams unabated
As half-alive entrées were hanged, drawn, and quartered— 
               And the menu-boards quickly updated.

They make dog-and-cat sausage with coon chuck and capers
               (How they do that, you don’t want to know);
I’ll write ravin’ reviews of it in all the papers—
               As long’s I don’t have to eat crow.

But next time I go to that Roadkillhouse place, 
               Where the menu is less than intriguin’,
I’ll cut to the car-lovin’-animal chase… 
               And I think I’ll just order me vegan. 

                                                            —Donot Eat Mouse