The Nerve!


Do you really think he cares

Is it possible really

No I'm sorry, it's not

Go on dreaming honey

We all know what you got

When you get it it's hot

Won't stay that way for long

We're only temps, yes I know it's wrong

You should have known by now

The nerve of some people


For example, your interest in me

Am I such a threat

Please you must know by now

No one is permanent

It's not so complicated when you know

Got him?, Get it?

We all do

You said it yourself


Yes I'm talking about you

Shocking I know

Keep reading

Don't go

Ok I'm done

Go have your fun

I give it a week

You'll be falling at his feet

Too bad

You can't stay

I'm so close

But don't want him anyway

Already got him

The getting is done

And even though

It was quite so much fun

I'm asking you now

For your reading to be done

Leave me alone

Go have your fun


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Copyright Protected Plastic Meat


Because I can't defend myself,

  I must defend my can of Spam.

   That greasy meat's so hard to beat,

    It symbolizes who I am.

     Not quite beef,

      Not quite pork,

       But somewhere in-between.

        I imagine myself on a throne of Spam,

              Their international queen.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Um, I know I sure wasn't HUNGRY when I wrote this! Spam.... ew!

View choirgrrl's Full Portfolio

Short Story of the Silliest Sort


   It was a dark and stormy night. I mean, it was really wet and rainy. There were big puddles outside, and I got my pant legs all wet... well, anyway, it was dark and stormy, and I happened to be craving anchovies and pickles in the worst way. Ah, what to do? I loaded up my car and was just about ready to go when I realized that I didn't know how to drive!

   "Oh shit!" I exclaimes to myself.

   There was only one thing that I could do, and so I went to see my next-door neighbor... and kill him. Armed with only a stick of licorice, I walked through the rain for what must have been 4 or 5 yards (I know, horrendous, isn't it? But don't worry, kiddies, I had a rubber.) and knocked on the old bastard's door.

   "Open up, you old coot!" I demanded.

   He was deaf, and, of course, didn't answer the door. So, I blew it down with a stick of dynamite.

   Turns out he wasn't home, so I began to look through his things, and would you believe he had some very old (and no doubt very valuable) nude pictures of Milton Berle. My lucky day! After confiscating the pictures, (and a few miscellaneous bottle of Absolut vodka) I lit the structure ablaze and ran back to my dungeon.

   Now, far be it from me to let and old man go homeless. After the rubble was cleared, I left a very large cardboard box on his front lawn.

   My good deed for the day done, I returned to my lair to finish embalming my pet goldfish, Fluffy, (This part always chokes me up, he was such a good pet. *Sniff*) but, alas, I had a hole in my bellybutton and could not continue for fear my intestines would fall out. (Don't worry, they never did.. did you know that there is SUPPOSED to be a hole in your bellybutton? Isn't that weird?)

   My day ended with a fablous rerun of the Andy Griffith Show, and my ritual nightcap of motor oil and melted Parkay.

   It was a good day.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Believe it or not, I not only find this to be one of the funniest things I have ever written, I also wrote it completely sober!

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While the gray-haired Principal expatiated

on the virtues of Rules & Regulations, Schedules

& Statutes, Order, Discipline & Personal Responsibility--

& how a routinary life begets Se-cu-ri-ty ("for you always know what happens next")--

I heard the children's joyful laughter take flight

on the variegated wings

          of a Monarch butterfly


             f l    t    i

                 u t  er   n g

       in the sun-drenched school yard


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