Large Fierce Mammal

Hotrod Bristle was inspired by the song Hotrod Lincoln, recently brought to mind by something revealed to me by the Esteemed Jay Heathman, which makes it partially his fault. The remaining share of the inspiration lies with the Woman I’m wed to, and the picture above that’s making the rounds right now, about which she said that if she had a broom, that’s the kind she’d want. So far as I know, the image was plundered by thousands from Pinterest without credit. My compliments to its creator, and I will be most pleased to give credit where credit is due if that person ever comes to be identified.

Before you go any further, you may want to prepare your mind by toe tapping your way through this …

Also, for those uneducated in old school broom construction, brooms are traditionally made from “broom corn”, often simply referred to as “bristle”, and from which “bristle brooms” are created. That should be all you need to know to come to grips with the title of today’s feature presentation.

Hotrod Bristle

By LFM

I was drivin’ one night down the open road
When the roadhouse beer just had to unload,
I pulled to the side and shoved ‘er in park,
In the dust of the shoulder I was makin’ my mark.

I was moanin’ relief to the stars in the sky
When a flash to the east done caught my eye,
The crickets got quiet, not makin’ a sound,
And my boots felt a rumblin’ from deep in the ground.

Then from up the road came a thunderin’ blast,
From a tiny dot that was growin’ fast,
No place to stand just holdin’ your dick,
I put it away and I zippered it quick.

Like time slowed down, I could see it all,
A black haired woman on a fire ball,
Like the bastard child of a broom and a Harley,
Pipes red hot and soundin’ gnarley.

Right up through the hog ran the haft o’ the broom
Just squirmin’ and throbbin’ like the pecker o’ doom,
Lookin’ one part wood, and three parts gristle,
Bleedin’ letters of fire sayin’, “Hotrod Bristle”.

What she put in the tank fer to make it go
Is somethin’ I don’t think I ever will know,
But outa her tailpipes, like glowing coals
Blew things that looked like burned out souls.

Then all at once, right before my eyes,
With cleavage to die for and gleamin’ thighs,
In skin tight leathers, all shiny and black,
My jeans got tight and my jaw got slack.

She smiled at me and she winked her eye,
Then knocked me flat as she blasted by.
When she rang my bells with her screamin’ missile —
I fell in love with that witch on the Hotrod Bristle.

I never saw her again, but I’ve tried and tried,
I’ve pissed by that road side, and sat there and cried.
Tried to call her back, but I don’t know how —
The Hotrod Bristle’s long gone now.