Four years from now, if COVID ain't the thing
(Oh, sorry, Blood, I know that's not a word)
The bombs might get us. What would take the sting
From such a fate would be, I might have heard,
A cyber-telepathic cranky hound
To find me partners, call for popcorn, sense
What I cannot, while making not a sound
That any else can hear. 'Twould be intense.
The mutt might well have Unca Harlan's voice!
Don Johnson isn't bad, for once. No one
At twenty-something always sucks. Rejoice!
On balance, 'tis a silly romp, and fun
Across the 'pockyclypse. I'd take a K.I.T.T.
In canine form along for sure! No spit!
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