flash the cash

sometimes my dad writes poems. he occasionally sends us emails and letters as his alter ego, "the baggist". the baggist is a character he created to entertain himself. the baggist is a storyteller who surrounds himself with an ecclectic group of associates, such as his wife, whose name i can't remember, who wears only deer skin clothing, is a writer, and lives with her husband only part time. sometimes the poems we receive from my dad are actually written by the baggist, such as this little gem that arrived in our inbox the other night. this poem is intended to convey a particular request to me and brad. if you are able to make a guess as to why my dad wrote this poem and what we are supposed to do as a result, please write a comment and i will give you a prize if you are correct - or even close to correct (i know the purpose due to some decoding prose that was added to the original email).

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Flash the cash,
This ain't no trash.
Speak the label,
And we'll make the dash.

We be the thicket,
You buy the ticket.

With an "ooh bitty bambah"
And a fancy, "My oh my!"
We'll send you the dough.
And a "Thanks" that's styled high.

Oh, yeah.

The baggist
Bent Poem Series: From "B-ball ain't no fun day at the beach". It be work,
man."
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