Disclaimer: I didn’t notice the prompt said to write a POEM until after I had wrote this. My bad.

“Ugh, the opposing forces were so annoying and rude.” Grandpa leans back in his chair.

I frown. “Like, in the war?”

Grandpa sighs. “Yes, in the war. World War II. They kept shooting at us. So what I did next, I, uh, I took the little… it looked important but it turns out it was just a grenade, I took it and I-I chucked it. I grew up on a farm, chopping wood, so you bet it went far.” He pauses and seems to notice the group of family staring, agape, at him. “Don’t just stand there, someone get me some pie!”

Aunt Ella rushes to the kitchen, presumably to cut a piece of apple pie with seasoned mango on top- Grandpa’s favorite. No, you can’t buy it at Publix, it has to be homemade.

“So I chuck the grenade, right?” Grandpa continues, settling back into his old man cushion chair. “And it lands on a tank of the enemy’s. A tank! I’m not sure why I threw it, I guess I didn’t want it, you know, uh, killing my people. That would be inconvenient for us.” He lets out what can only be described as an old man grunt. “So the ‘nade is gone, and then there’s an explosion, and then I have to fight in the war some more. I won a medal for my grenade chuck, a big honor or whatever. I guess it was a bit of fun, would do again. Lots of adrenaline.”

Aunt Ella nearly drops the pie, but I guess I would’ve too.