Satire Sunday: The Sanct-kitty of the Vote

Lovecat (Howard Phillips) and his friend,
Called Rudyard Kipling, had a talent rare:
For guarding ballots. Wintry Sundays end
In one or both of them (they often share)
A-perched atop forensics sheets galore
(Their dad is in the trade). So when they heard
That fraud might ruin, to its very core,
A Presidential contest -- "Say the word!"
The pair meowed. "You need us on the case!
No tampering can happen on our watch!"
"'Tis true," said Daddy Jake. "You boldly chase
All comers from your charge. You'd hardly botch
The Nation's. Let me call the F.E.C.
And I'll negotiate a worthy fee."

Terror Tuesday: Soiled Overalls: The Trey McCumber Story

The barn, 'twas said, was older than all three
Of his old uncles put together. Trey
And his two brothers liked to go and see
What they could find inside it, but by day
Alone. At night its eeriness was more than such
Young boys could deal with -- that is, 'til the night
That Trey, who'd just turned nine, screwed up as much
Raw courage as he could, grabbed knife and light
And went inside. The shadows seemed malign
But 'twas the yowl that chased him back outside.
Days later he heard tell that Auntie Vine
Had used to drown stray cats in there. He tried
Again, and heard that terrifying screech
And saw a ghost cat flailing, out of reach!