Jack is just an average teenage boy
|
Whose father always told him, as he'd smack poor Jack to scold him
|
That a body is a tool, and not a toy
|
"Never touch yourself down here, no matter what you do!"
|
Said Father, grabbing Jack, and almost shaking him in two
|
But late one night when all of the house was quiet
|
Jack got awful curious as to what made Dad so furious
|
And decided he would go ahead and try it
|
|
Every night behind the bathroom door
|
Squatting on his haunches, he lunges forth and launches
|
A thick genetic mess upon the floor
|
|
Once again, the liquid legions fly
|
A quivering cascade condemned to die
|
And they wilt for a while on the porcelain tile
|
Dead and drying as they're trying, in a wet white pile of foam
|
To be home again, back in the sac, as they curdle and crack
|
All because of a jerk called Jack
|
|
Floating in the Xs and the Ys
|
Spasm after spasm of perfect protoplasm
|
As half a future genius slowly dies
|
|
Once again, the liquid legions fly
|
A quivering cascade condemned to die
|
And they wilt for a while on the porcelain tile
|
Dead and drying as they're trying, in a wet white pile of foam
|
To be home again, back in the sac, as they curdle and crack
|
All because of a jerk called Jack
|
|
Breaking down the doors with flailing fists
|
The Eagle Forum has landed, and jack is caught red-handed
|
By a midnight mob of Catholic activists
|
"You've spilled the seed of God!" the leader whines
|
And she incites the night's stampeeding
|
Till our boy lies bruised and bleeding
|
While they gird his groin with planks and protest signs
|
|
Then as quickly as they'd come, the gang was gone
|
No more jacking Jack upon the john
|
|
-----------------
|
Potential People
|
| Bubblemath |
