Half a croissant, on a plate, with a sign in front of it saying '50c'
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Frooty Slots

Slot machine with actual froot in it.
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There once was a man and his friend lady wife,
Who struggled with money and a stuffy old life.
They just wanted some fun and to live it up large,
And they found it one day on a floating red barge!

A barge on a river, and that all jam packed of water,
They crossed a small bridge and ooh'ed at an otter!
Stepping inside, just surrounded by lights,
Flashing and blinking, and sexy ladies in tights!

Collecting their senses, they found some machines,
And sat down right at them, those two frumpy old beans.
The machines, they had slots, and buttons, and levers,
And made them both instantly jackpot believers!

But what's this - not paint or a computery screen,
Those apples and cherries are just there to be seen!
They sit in compartments, and them is the facts.
Preserved in clear booze, in little glass racks!

As the levers are pulled and spinning things go,
The froot rotates around, then stopping just so!
Do the oranges line up? And so do those melons?
The wife falls in love with these one armed froot felons!

They spend all the night, and most the next day,
Entirely occupied with spinning froot play,
Until they discover; a new use for their nickles!
In the next room over -- sit felons with pickles!
mylodon, Feb 21 2018

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       halfbaked poetry! i like it! now if only i knew how to donate you some buns in custard sauce...or croissants steeped in caffeine...
Edie, Feb 22 2018
  
      
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