Replying to a comment on:

An Ode to Gobbling (Ode) by horus8

How drunk is drunk? I think, I stink, I stank, I stunk. To come walking in at a quarter of three? With a handfull of shit, and a mouthfull of pee? Claiming your wallet was stolen by a car full of Nazi chimpanzees? That's one way, I must say. To put yourself in such glib display. To scare your wife, and scar your kids, and make your neighbours flip their lids. But trust me when I say to you. There are better ways to come unglued. For instance, harken to this tale of olde that I'll now chirp for you through poetry. Of my dear old drunk uncle Chip.. The day he sold his penis, and ate his hip. He had been down the street at Molly McWhores. Snorting up bouillon, and picking his pores. Trying to staunch a wicked nose bleed. With a tube of silicon, and "My own Prison" by Creed. My Aunt had been ringing the bar "For fuck's sake all night!". But they "Kept making excuses, and aiding his plight." That's when she put on her Chevys and tied down her splat, she laced up her cleats, and duct taped the bat. "Good God!" Screamed cousin Regina "She might do it again!" (Referring back to sometime, God knows only when). That's when I dashed for the back door. Having seen this type of 'thing' before. I knew in my gut it was far time to make haste See, my palms had gone clammy, and there was a metalic taste. At the tip of my tongue, and the roof of my mouth. When I get those feelings it's time to get South, but as I turned the knob? In came the slob. Uncle Chip was naked with a watermelon cap, and in his left hand he carried a map, at least so he claimed, in between belches He even had a note on his back that said "Gay Chip Fucking Felches!". His wife grabbed the map, and turned it around to show... That indeed it was nothing mo' than a tab/reciept from Molly McHo's. Then out came the knife, as Uncle Chip broke wind. She shouted "Tonight you were bad Chip, tonight you HAVE SINNED!" Uncle Chip sobered up quick, and back out the door slipped, but you could hear it quite clearly when out popped his hip. His femur too snapped, and that's how his crotch to face was open mouth lapped. (A proper Gobbling, or what Pacific Islanders hail a 'Lap snorkeling'). So thus concludes my holiday tale. If you're going to drink? Think, and bring money for bail. Oh, and the best reassurance? Means good medical insurance! Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy your Gobbling!

horus8 29-Nov-03/2:51 PM
I take it your old lady's not a gusher?




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001