Pure Poetry: Err on a Lengthy Pantaloon

Today I found not in my shoe,

But rather in my stepping,

A lack of comfort without a clue,

A garb that was not fetching.

That feeling upon my inner thighs,

Turned out was rather wrong.

The friction that did give rise,

To an inseam that was too long.

And upon my stopping,

I felt that eyes were locking,

To survey the discomfort,

Upon my boat-side port.

For my fashionable pants with ironed crease,

Were none too much with a droopy seat.

So here I ponder,

Rather walking or rest,

The loin that wanders,

And gone unpressed.

Against a pant that’s not fitting,

Nor a leg that’s not gripping,

But a quirky sense that is uneasy,

For pair of pants far too breezy.

Entitled: Old West Proctologist

"Old West Proctologist: A Fist Full of Hollers"

Mixed Nuts

 Charlton

“So I told them, ‘You can have my gun when you can pry it from my cold, dead hand.’”

Ted

“That’s what I told the bastards about CNN, but they took it anyway.” 

Charlton

“Damned dirty apes.”

Ted

“Exactly!  Though I think they were something less than sub-primate.  Say, Chuck, can I call you Chuck?”

Charlton

“That’s not my name, but you can call me whatever you like, Ted.”

Ted

“You betcha, Benji Hur it is, feel my calf muscle.  My right one, though, my left one got chewed up in a thresher race when I was 14.  I won the race, by the way.  Taught my cousin a lesson in how to cherry shift a 3.5 ton wheat eater.  He died of his injuries but that wheat came in, by God!  Go ahead, feel my calf!”

Charlton

“You want me to feel your calf?”

Ted

“Settle down, Moses, it isn’t golden.”

Charlton

“I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

Ted

“Fair enough.  You a betting man, Chuckles?”

Charlton

“I’ve been known to roll the dice a time or two.  Why?”

Ted

“Watch me get this young fellar behind ya to feel my calf for twenty bucks.  You, what’s your name?”

Young Michael B.

“Mike, Mr. Turner.”

Ted

“Mike Mister Turner… hey, Turner, that’s my name.  We related or are you from the Tina Turner side?  She’s got great legs.  Speaking of great legs, whataya say you grab mine to score a Jackson?”

Young Michael B.

“Grab… your leg?”

Ted

“See, Chuckles, that’s the problem with these events, they’ve always got the retarded kids mixed in with the regulars to sneak up on you to make you reach for your checkbook.  That’s why I carry hard candy in my pocket.  It’s the crinkley noise that distracts ‘em long enough to escape.”

Charlton

“Very clever.”

Ted

“Go ahead, son, feel my calf.”

Young Michael B.

“Okay.” 

(feeling Ted’s calf)

Young Michael B.

“Is that a gun?”

Ted

“Ha!  He must be one of the high functionals, Chuck.  He’s right, that’s my snubbed nose 38.  Nickel plated, can’t stand tarnish, Chuck.  I thought about getting ivory handles, but my ex wouldn’t let me.  Hippies, Chuck, are no fun.  Don’t trust them, Chuck, no matter how many times you’ve seen a hippie naked, don’t you trust ‘em!”

Charlton

“I never have.”

Ted

“Okay, son, that’s enough.  Here, have a butterscotch.  It helps if you tell ‘em they’re eating gold.  Gives ‘em something to look forward to next time they poop.  Speaking of poop, where’s that gal with the caviar platter?” 

Capn's Quip: Patriotism

“A patriot must always be ready to defend his country against his government." – Edward Abbey 

"Ah, but a true patriot must always be ready to defend his country against himself."

Pure Poetry: Eau de Colon

Here’s to you on your day,
Where eyes they did go roaming,
Inside your person and up your rump,
And your mucosa they were homing.

In an open gown they laid you out,
And raised your leg and began their route,
And there on a gurney, as they are able,
Inserted a camera and three foot cable.

But glamour was not their task at hand,
As they hunted for bogies with every cram.
To take aim at intruders and thereby snipe,
The nastiness found in their daguerreotype.

But hopefully they found you nice and pink,
In the area that hath caused quite a stink.
And may your lining be good in all its turns,
And your memory be lost of any squirms.
For sedated you have been and rightfully so,
When doctors have spelunked your po-po.

Awakening now, and whether proper to sit,
You’ll ponder food… and the need to shit.
For intestines that have laid empty so long,
Introducing food thereto would seem so wrong.
Yet the grumbling in your belly will lead you to eat,
And soon enough you will have forgotten your seat.

Until a flashback perhaps, of your time in that room,
When you may have recalled that feeling of doom,
As they prepped your hindquarters for a nice little looky,
And they joked at your expense at your exposed little pookie.
But seeing your innards is a serious caper,
Lest we forget the millions spent on toilet paper.

Welcome back my dear friend,
And your rump violated.
For unspeakable things done,
And the jokes they’ve created.
I trust you are well and recovering with whim,
And the shape of your bowels are now proper and prim.
Have confidence in your physician and the job he has done,
For the great voyages he’s taken deep down in your bum.
Take comfort in knowing he’s done the right thing,
But do query the good doctor about his missing wedding ring.

Entitled: Spastic Pete & Attention Deficit Dave

"The Continuing Mysteries of Spastic Pete and Attention Deficit Dave: The case of the – Hey Look, Something Shiny!"

Velvety Smooth

“Velvety smooth, Cart.  That’s the secret to getting where you wanna go in this life.  Velvet T. Smooth.  You wouldn’t know anything about that with your boney butt and your one wheel that’s all Michael J. Foxy.  ‘Blubiddy, blubiddy, blubiddy,’ that’s what you feel like when you go shaking down the street.  All special needs, handicapable and whatever.  Bet you wish you were that Mercedes across the street.  Bet it’s smooth and velvety delicious.  Mmmm, but it’s not a convertible like you, Carty Cart… with your top down and all your stuff showing.  Mmmm, you look good, sweety.  The truth.  But you do got the wobbles, girlfriend.  But that’s okay or whatever, because you’re smooth on the inside where it counts sometimes.  Oooh, feel that?  Mmm, velvety wind.  I like to feel the wind on my tummy when it blows… on my tummy… the wind.  Now that’s velvety smooth, see?  Oh hey, look at those people down there.  ‘Woohoo, I’m sexy!’  They so want me.  No, they were not looking at you, girlfriend shopping cart.  They were looking at this.  You’re just jealous that I bring the velvet to the smooth that is mwah.  Don’t laugh, that’s French!  Stop it!  You’re so dumb!  Heavy sigh… Oh, we’re friends right?  I wish you were a real convertible, Carty.  Then I could get in you and we could go cruising, honey!  Oof, we should not have had those tacitos from Del Taco.  Feels like a baby kicking in here.  Oh, sorry, Carty.  No offense.  I didn’t mean to bring up the whole abortion thing.  I know you’re still sensitive.  You wanna wear the pants this time?  Yeah, for real.  I mean it, Carty.  You’ve earned it.  Besides, you look like you could use some velvety smoothness right about now because you’re a little sad.  It’s okay really, go ahead and take them.  It’s alright, I’ll turn around.  Geeez!”

Capn's Quip: Drudgery

“Drudgery is the element in life that reminds one to cherish the moments spent frequenting the facilities."

Capn's Quip: Technology

"The technology meant to enhance your life, often finds they've basically taken feces and affixed a button to it."

Capn's Quip: Religion

“The bible may celebrate man having two legs, but it never equated how short those legs would carry us.”

 

Capn's Quip: Kindness

"Kindness may not get you anywhere, but then where are you trying to go?"

Capn's Quip: The Human Condition - 3

"Even an old adder will coil anew."