Dorm Room Dilemma
I tried to stop drinking so much damn beer.
I glanced at my refrigerator...it was so very near.
After ten seconds, I re-tweaked my plan;
It wouldn't really hurt to drink one little can.
I finished my can and plopped down on the floor.
My foot accidentally hit the refrigerator door.
The door slowly swung open, as my foot had preplanned,
But when I tried to shut it, a beer jumped in my hand.
I don't know how it happened, I haven't the slightest clue.
But I figured if one wouldn't hurt, why the hell would two?
I quickly slammed the second one and flopped down on my bed.
My liver screamed and moaned - it wanted to be fed.
I had to think of something to take my mind off of that beer.
If I could just distract myself, I'd be in the clear.
I decided that I would get some cleaning done.
It seemed like a good idea, and it was my only one.
So I polished every beer can to a perfect shine.
They looked absolutely radiant, I was proud that they were mine!
One still had a tiny smudge and looked a little drab,
I tried to re-polish it, but I slipped and popped the tab.
I couldn't let it go to waste, that would be absurd!
And since I had a second, I might as well have a third.
It tasted so exquisite I had to have one more.
I reached into the fridge and opened number four.
Shortly after that followed numbers five, six and seven.
Before I knew what happened I was grabbing number eleven.
Number twelve didn't have a chance - it was gone five minutes later.
I sat back and stared into my empty refrigerator.
Then I belched really loud and stumbled to my bed.
I must have pissed off my wall because it hit me in the head.
Reason started setting in and I realized what I had done.
I had lost the battle and my lack of willpower had won.
But I would try again tomorrow, and I'd try with all my might.
But I better get a case - tomorrow's Friday night!