Candee

She tiptoes in, like a whisper in scrubs, PTA queen, but she don’t do the clubs. Can’t hear a thing, no aids in her ear, You say “Good morning,” she just sips her Muscle Milk and steers. Oscar’s her cat—he’s a beast, not a pet, Big ol’ back like a linebacker vet. Eats like a king while she snacks on jerky, Grazes through the day like a fitness turkey. Candee with two E’s, queen of Hobby Lobby, Cher hair, spooky flair, quiet like a zombie. Loves Snoop Dogg and haunted halls, Wears skeleton socks in the therapy halls. She don’t eat lunch, but she’s jacked and she’s sleek, Beef jerky in hand, ghost-hunting every week. She’s got a thing for things that go bump, Walks through graveyards like a stroll in the sun. Says, “If I get possessed, just leave me be,” Then dances like Cher to some S-N-double O-P. She’s sweet like taffy, but don’t make her shout, You’ll be talkin’ for days before she figures it out. Half the time you’ll find her near the fake fall leaves, Buying twelve pumpkins with a smile and a sleeve. Candee with two E’s, muscle milk magician, PTA ghost-whisperer on a beef stick mission. Cat hair, don’t care, spooky year-round, Spends her paychecks where crafts abound. Quiet as a mouse but her vibe’s elite, Wears boots in July and keeps it Halloween chic. You’ll find her vibin’ with a black cat stare, Hair teased high like a ’90s Cher. She won’t hear your gossip, won’t hear your sass— But don’t worry, she’ll still save your back. Candee with two E’s, the legend’s true, She’s a little bit boo and a whole lotta cool. Jerky in her bag, Snoop in her soul, Fixes your spine while she crafts like a troll. You might think she’s odd, but she’s our MVP— Candee, oh Candee, spell it with two E’s! So here’s to the grazer with the haunted style, Silent and spooky with a cat that’s wild. She may not hear much, but she’s full of cheer— Candee, we’re just glad you’re here!