Sick Daze
Afishionados,
And one of them was sickly
It seems that I have caught the bug
Which made me ill quite quickly.
At first it was a runny nose
And stuffed up head with aches
Today I feel a whole lot worse
Which is why I’m still awake.
This afternoon while sitting down
Near the end of my last class
I felt my inner guts explode
I had to shit real fast.
10 more hours have gone by
My insides ripped and slaughtered
I can’t seem to keep food down
And I keep shitting water.
I just threw up into the sink
I feel a little better
I hope that I recover soon
My pants can’t get much wetter.
Are you sure it was your realtives?
Are you sure it’s not bad worms?
Are you sure it wasn’t just Joey,
Spreading ’round his germs?!
Aww, I hope you get better soon!
Cuddles and paracetomal,
Vixxie.
Nawww Dude, trust me. They can get wetter.
If 4 our of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea,
does that mean that 1 out of 5 ENJOYS it?
Yeah dude, they can get wetter.
I caught something like this in Mexico once. Now you know why I hate Mexico with all my heart.
TV
Vixxie: It was either relatives or the English, I’m not sure which.
mike: Only when I look at photos of your hot daughter.
Inquiring Mind: Don’t you?
redroach: No Mexicans in my family, though my nephew does look suspiciously beanerish…
I wish I had some cheerful words,
Like, “Dude, this too shall pass”;
But YER head will remain stuffd up –
Stuffd up yer fuckin ass.
Joey:
Each time I sat upon the loo
My innards aching, blowy
I squeezed out some awful turds
And named them after Joey
Name yer “children” aftr me.
See if I care if you do.
Fer evn tho they bear my name,
They still LOOK jus like YOU.
Joey:
How can you accuse that I
Have my head up my ass?
With your head there you know darn well
That I can’t get mine past!
Wif evrything that youve had shovd,
Inside yer ass, my friend,
Up there woud surely fit our heads,
Plus that of Gentle Ben.
I’m sure that you are full of shit
There’s one way I can tell
The diarrhetic drops of doom
That I left have your smell.
Joey went to flip a coin,
And Atlas got quite miffd.
Said Joe, “You call it. Tails or heads?”
Said Atlas, “Whats th diff?”
I wasn’t sure what clogged my john
But the plumber said, “I know!”
“Nothing’s thick and nasty as
this brown stuff we call Joe.”
Atlas went to see th doc about his gastrick mess.
He tryd to find th werds that woud express his feelins best.
“Thin soft brown things come out of my ass, to my chagrin.
Jus once Id like em thick & hard, not goin out but comin in.”
When Joey called to ask me out
I didn’t see it coming
“Joe,” I said, “We just can’t date
Cuz you’ve got the wrong plumbing.”
Atlas has written a poem about,
Joey Polanski askin him out.
But askin out Atlas is futile because it,
Is silly to think Atlas still in th closet.
I couldn’t flush my goldfish down
The toilet bowl today
The danged ol’ thing was overflown
With Joey in the way
On th pot sat Atlas,
Wif a cage & papr cup.
He plannd his two pets journeys:
Goldfish down, gerbil up.
Joey has got an addiction
A masturbatory affliction
If whacking it raw
Was forbidden by law
Then Polanski would face a conviction
“I mus know,” Polanski demanded,
“And, Atlas, be prfeckly candid,
Exackly how coud,
You be so dangd good,
At skinnin cucumbrs bare-handed?”
I won’t put a gerbil
In the places they won’t go
I leave all the stuffin’ ass
To my Polish pal named Joe
Im th one to stuff th ass?
Fine wif me, biotch!
Ill stuff th ass o Leighton Meester,
And, werse, Ill make you watch!
With all the friction
On your palms
I hope you’ve got
A healing balm
Healing balm
Wont help you now,
Since yer dick
Snappd off somhow.
Polanski on the Internet
And rhyming as he types
Polanski gets his poems from
The same place that he wipes
Ok, this one is all closed upski.
Atlas attaind greatness,
In poetry and prose,
Th moment that he pennd th line:
“My poetry sure blows.”
Oops.
Alright, you slid past the timer with that last one, but NOW it’s doneski. You get the last word.
Yeah, WOW, my last poemski came in RIGHT AT TH BUZZR!
Joey: Well, you ARE the expert at cummin late.