An Ode to the cat fish head helmet on your penis

I have a perfect seat for this movie. Until you, and your 'friends', decide to sit down in front of me. All at once, the phones flip out, and you and yours begin to share feature upon feature upon yes, yet again, another stupid motherfucking feature. "The White Stripes", "Mozart" And even my dearest "Bach". My gag reflex is working overtime. While a nasty little itch has begun at my knuckles and ended at some tense red lining nerve even further than my last. I begin to slowly outloud chant: A vulva holsters next, and I know it shall perplex you, and your bangs, above it. With a slanted cut, and a white chick's flat butt. You must think I could give a shit? Soon, there'll be bacon scented covers, and some that shoot out rubbers A phone that calls your name Even when you're lame, and out with the wrong lover. I've seen the future, and there are phones that cook spinach. They can grow your tits bigger, and make you a wigger Others that'll teleport you to Greenewiche village. I saw a phone that was queer. And one tipped on beer. I even saw one that voted. Phones, so fucking small They magically make you seem tall And by chance if it falls It'll call out your name while you're demoted. <I snap out of it, but do I really ever?> I hear a noise bounce below my seat by my feet. The Jap behind me, at "KIll Bill" has drop-p-ed his! We both stare at eachother intensely for a moment. I ask eagerly, "May I pick it up, and give it to you?" He says, "Oh please could you?", and I do, but then I throw out, for a kick "You should think about getting a vulva holster?" He holds his phone close to his heart for a minute, pondering, I assume, something magnificent to rhetort with... But, in all muting irony he states, "What's a vulva?" [uncomfortable pause] With a smile on my face I win with "The capitol of Uranus."