A Blonde & a Transformer

Chillin' on the terrace on a warm fall night,
Rappin' with my man when the sky filled bright.
"What the hell was that?" I said aloud,
But the night had returned to its cool, dark shroud.
I asked, "Dude, didn't you see that huge, bright flash?"
"No, but those sirens are sure in a mad dash."
And away they were to the calamitous scene,
We saw the engines pass with their spotless glean.
I texted Tess, fer sure, 'cause she's a newshound.
But it was hours before she said what she'd found.
"A transformer blew in a car wreck,
Surely that's the flash you saw from your deck."
So there we had it, without further to wonder,
An unfortunate driver the cause of the blunder.
Our minds at ease, we jumped in the car,
Time for live music in the local dive bar.
Nothing but gum-chewing ladies in here,
We left to find someplace else to drink beer.
When suddenly we got a text from a friend,
"Come to the club, your woes we will mend."
What club do you think, well the one they call Blonde,
Which isn't one that we necessarily find fond.
A recent article by the Star's Kent Babb,
Was nothing but ridiculous, inflated flab.
"Blonde is nothing but peaceful and warm,"
When ear-numbing bass is typically the norm.
But have a few drinks, we did with a smile.
The eye-candy there could line up for a mile.
When finally we left, we stopped for a cap,
Positive tomorrow would demand a quick nap.