Dr. Booze Returns!
More of Dr. Booze's Little Poems for Little People
"Gray, Runny Eggs, With Some Chunks of S**t In It!"
Oh, joy kids; sleep off a bender and wake up to your wife
Making gut-churning breakfast that just may take you life!
You stumble to the table, half blind in the harsh light
You explain to her you had a hell of a night
She gazes at you something less than sympathy
You've nothing to look forward to but runny,
Grayish eggs, with some chunks of crap floating in it,
That tastes none too good; in fact it tastes like s**t!
Straight from the pan, it's spooned onto your plate
You recoil at the sight, but it's much too late
For you, my friend, you'll suffer the consequences
You'll have to eat it, like she says
You pick up your fork, dread running through you
She's watching you, so there's nothing else to do
Spear a grotesque lump and raise it to your mouth,
Then try not to retch as the s**t's headed south
"So how is it?" she wonders aloud
You try to be stoic; you try to stay proud,
But with a queasy feeling racking you guts,
At last you have to rail, you tried, but
You race from the table, away from the gray slime
The toilet bowl, you're desperate to find
After you're done, you meekly return to the table
You tell yourself not to look, but you're unable
For you're loving wife has replaced your plate with a bowl,
Filled it full up, filled it up until the gray s**t overflows
The sides, and the crap drips down the sides
"Eat it all, there's plenty more where that came from!" she confides
That's when you realize she's very angry and mad
She's going to make you suffer for your stupidity, and bad!