biff and iguana man come back for more

"Eating forks is not allowed," I told my aged aunt.
She looked at me with longing eyes; her face was pale and gaunt.
I gripped her knobby shoulder (when she winced I let it go);
I really did feel bad for her, and tried to tell her so.
"I know you're used to eating things that normal people don't,
And family can forgive you, but, well, other folks just won't.
I only wish to save you from a life of scorn and shame,
Besides which, I'm in favor of untarnished family names."
My aunt's blue eyes grew piercing bright; her finger smote my nose.
"How little you discern," she said, "your silly words just show.
This 'normal' that you speak of -- I can't fathom what it means --
But it strikes me awfully funny, and I'd rather you came clean.
You've never cared for family names -- just look at your career!
Now come here, sonny, don't be shy. What do you really fear?"
My aunt's an awfully sharp old bird (I've said it oft before),
And this, her latest insight, only made me like her more.
"I ought not, Aunt, deceive you." ("Cuz you can't," she pointed out.)
"So now I will desist, and tell you what it's all about.
We're going to a picnic, as you know, this afternoon,
Among whose guests I fear will be a certain ghastly goon.
He's never very kindly, but I've heard his latest trick
Involves a homemade poison that has made bald eagles sick.
He likes to lace it into things like silverware and rum,
And forks will be his target, if he knows that you have come.
Now, what he's got against you is a question for the wise;
But Biff and I will both be there, to take him down to size.
Fear not, my aged relative, though Biff you have not met--
He's not extremely lovely, but of sidekicks he's the best."
"Well, thank you, boy," she said, "but here is what I can't quite see:
You said he poisons eagles -- what's that got to do with me?"
I pondered this a moment, how to speak the truth with tact;
I said, "Well, that you're an old bird is a well-established fact;
And, honestly, your tresses have been looking rather thin;
So I figure, what bald eagles kills, could also do you in."
"Your logic is impeccable, and I'm touched by your concern;
I'll eat no forks today," she said, in tones both brave and firm.
If you knew as well as I how very much my aunt loves forks,
You, too, would shed a tear and choke out, "Thanks, you're such a sport."
That's what I did, I tell you, and I'm not a bit ashamed;
Iguana Man has feelings too, in spite of world-wide fame.
My aunt licked off her finger, then she wiped my tear away.
I must confess this grossed me out, and prodded me to say,
"Dear aunt, let's have an end to all this touchy-feely stuff;
Let's venture forth to picnic, though the going may get rough.
Though bologna may be gummy, though jell-o may be goo,
Though forks be laced with poison, we will see this mission through."
The aunt was so excited by this optimistic chant
That she took off down the sidewalk toward the park in nothing flat.
"Hey, aunt, I thought we'd take the car!" I yelled, but all in vain;
Her steps were quick, her hearing bad -- she strode on just the same.
I shrugged and took off after her, and soon we reached the park,
A strangely cheery setting for such dreadful deeds and dark.
We pulled up, panting, leaning on some tables for support,
Upon which lay, I saw too late, a great array of forks.
My aunt did gasp, and I gasped, too. This fiend would stoop so low!
We heard a cough; we whipped around, and saw we weren't alone.
A single boy stood by himself, the picnic's lonely host;
A can of Raid was in his hand; his shirt said, "Flies, You're Toast."
The right words quite escaped me, but the boy spoke up instead.
"You're rather late, I cannot lie," the young fly hunter said,
"The other guests have been and gone, but I s'pose they'll all be back;
They're only at the soccer fields across the railroad track.
My father put this picnic on, but he left me here in charge,
To 'splain about the food and stuff, and welcome dear Aunt Marge."
He gave us each a plate and walked us past the pans of food;
A lot of it was gone, but what was left looked pretty good.
"And here's the beans, and there's the cake," the Splainin' Boy declared,
And set us at our places, and brought drinks and silverware.
He sat across the table, and a fly sat next to him.
It must have been a dumb fly. A spritz of Raid soon did it in.
With pride I saw Aunt Marge consume her lettuce with a spoon;
Her resolve was strong, but wouldn't last; I must relieve her soon.
Oh, where was Biff when need was near? I knew he'd planned to come;
He forgot, I thought with sadness. I was deserted by my chum.
"Now, look here, boy," I said, "I need your help, and that's a fact,
For you possess the info that my stunning brain still lacks.
Have any of your party seemed the ghastly, goony type?
The type that poisons eagles, just to hear them moan and gripe?"
"Why, yes!" the Splainin' Boy cried out. "I know of whom you speak.
He looks quite harmless, nibbles plums, and sometimes talks in Greek,
But underneath his charming shell lurk innards rank and grim;
Come, follow me, across these tracks! I'll take you straight to him!"
He yodeled in a manner which I thought I knew quite well,
But other things had filled my mind, and I hadn't time to tell.
A hectic kind of soccer game was coming to its close;
The checkered ball made one last bump off someone's skillful toes,
And hurtled past the goalie, who, enraged, thrashed on the ground--
And cursed in Greek, I noticed, as he waved his arms around.
"Aha!" I said, and saw just then that, much to my surprise,
Another guy had tackled him: a guy with muddy eyes;
A guy with hair like moldy straw, a guy whose nose was big--
I saw now just how wrong I'd been, to accuse him as I did.
'It's Biff!" I yelled, "You've saved the day! I knew you would! Ahoy!"
"Hey, Dad! I brought Iguana Man," cried out the Splainin' Boy.
I jumped and sharply looked at him. "Did you just call Biff, 'Dad'?
And how'd you know my name, you frightful insect-killing lad?"
"I did just call him Dad, because he is," he said with pride.
"If it weren't for him and you, Aunt Marge would probably have died.
I stayed behind to warn you (I was told that you'd wear green),
While Dad kept track of Goony here, who's on his soccer team.
A lot of forks were poisoned, but not one of them was ate."
My heart swelled as I looked at him, and said, "Your dad's sure great."
"I know," the boy said rapturously, and did a happy dance;
It was a joyous scene that only hugging could enhance.
Then Biff strolled up; I hugged him, and the scene was made complete.
The goon, now tied up tightly, growled and gurgled near our feet.
We made quite sure this crook would never plague our town again:
The cops soon came and shipped him off to serve his time in Spain.
(Apparently he grew up there; all that Greek was just for show.
But his eagle/aunt vendetta was for real, I'll have you know.)
That night we had a picnic -- Biff, his son, my aunt, and me;
We ate banana salad while we lounged beneath a tree.
Biff and I were glad, for we could safely now behold
My aunt consuming forks, for she was odd, but she was old;
And family names are worthless if they cause such needless stress.
An aunt can have weird habits. We don't love her any less.