Spyke & Mike: A New Year’s Cackle

Hey there my BTR friends. Welcome to 2022. Time for Mike and I to make yearly resolutions which we really try to keep. I must say though, Mike sets his sights pretty high to spend less, waste less time, and eat less. He usually shoots himself in the foot late January or early February. Me, on the other hand, go for the little things that I can stick to like: not complaining about the amount of nuts he gives me, not squawking loudly scaring my fans, and not pooping on the Fat Bird when he takes me out for a ride.
 
Mike breaks in, “Spyke, are you cackling about my 2022 goals? Well, I won’t have a problem spending less, because I don’t have any Christmas money left, which means I won’t be wasting a lot of time buying useless stuff or yummy food to eat.”

 I cluck, “Dude, stop trying to baffle me with bird shit. Did you forget for one second who has the brains between us? Speaking of brains, I used mine to let the readers know the real story behind your overeating and Christmas indulgence. It is written to the tune of, Twas the night before Christmas.

Twas the month after Christmas, and all through his room,
Nothing would fit him, not even his huge pirate costume.
The cookies he nibbled, the eggnog he’d taste,
At the holiday parties had gone to his waist.
When he got on the scale there rose such a number! 
He didn’t walk around the room, it was more like a lumber.
He indulged in all the meals that were prepared,
The gravies, sauces, and beef nicely rared.
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese,
All made him say, “I’ll have three servings please.”
He dressed himself in some XL biker gear,
And wiped down the scoot while drinking a beer.
I squawked to myself, as only I can:
“We can’t be seen riding since you morphed into a fat man!
So, away with the various flavors of sour cream dips,
Get rid of the fruitcake, crackers and chips.
Every last bit of fattening food must be banished,
‘Till all your additional pounds have vanished.
You can’t have any more ice cream, not even a lick,
You’ll have to enjoy a long celery stick.
No more hot biscuits, cornbread, or pie,
You must munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
You’ll be hungry, craving, and eating will become a big bore,
But isn’t that what January is for?
Unable to snack, no longer can you try it,
Have a healthy New Year and stay on your diet!”

 Mike rolls his eyes and babbles, “Well Spyke, I’ll be losing weight by hiding it somewhere and you’ll never find it. I’m going to turn my scale that doesn’t read accurately into an anti-gravity machine. Then, I plan on working out more at home by increasing reps of Tastykake curls to 3 sets of 15, 12 ounce Budweiser swings to a 24 pack and laterally raise three bags of BBQ chips in one hour. After those extreme exercise sessions, I’ll be driving by the fitness center at least twice a week. But in the long run I’m shooting for my XL waistline to last as long as my resolutions.”
 
 I chirp, “The only thing you’ll be hiding is your skinny jeans and medium-sized shirts. The real reason you’ll be driving by the gym is because the grocery and liquor stores are just passed it. I couldn’t see you walking through those doors anyways. It will be flooded with hopeful health-enthusiasts like yourself. In fact, it will be so busy that maneuvering around all those fitness freaks will be a work out in itself. How about instead joining a cult? You get to make new friends, go on special missions and membership is faster and cheaper than the gym! But in reality, I can’t believe how lost you are in thinking that the New Year is a life-changing event. If you had troubles last year, they’ll probably still be around next year. And being more optimistic by keeping your glass half full of beer and doing twice as many swings is not the answer.”

 Mike jabbers, “Well then, Spyke, here’s to no resolutions and a new year of extreme binge eating, boozing, and slacking off. The way you make me see it, I might as well just join the party! To hell with diet, exercise, and living healthy. Hop on my shoulder and let’s get my knees in the breeze, your wings in the wind, and the Fat Birds’ wheels rolling down the road. It’s my first ride past the gym and I need to stock up on taboo treats.”
—SPYKE