uselessness - Damsel in Distress

"Help!" she cried, "I broke a nail
    while trying to strike a match
    to better see the juggling torches
    I am trying to catch
    and nearly failing, for my hands
    are greased and very slick
    with cooking oil I applied
    for practicing this trick."

I heard the damsel crying out
    and said I'd lend a hand
    in just a second when I finished
    pumping like I'd planned
    (for she was at the second pump;
    the third was my location
    as we fueled our matching Pintos
    at the local filling station).

I couldn't hear the girl's response
    for at that very moment
    the air was split by lightning
    and a million rainclouds opened.
    The lightning struck a fusebox
    and it started hurling sparks
    up and through my open window
    toward my crate of fireworks.

Then I finally finished pumping
    and I pulled the nozzle out,
    accidentally spewing gasoline
    that splashed and sloshed about
    and startled me so badly,
    with its sudden fumy drips,
    that I gasped and my Virginia Slims
    fell tumbling from my lips.

Eventually I walked around
    and comforted the gal
    and calmed her panicked rant
    about her broken fingernail.
    I was proud to be a hero
    with all the honor that it brings,
    but women get worked up about
    the silliest little things!

The End

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