There is a young lass of Valencia
For whom sex is a form of dementia.
For the first hour she's quiet
Then she builds to a riot
With a noise that grows quickly intensia.
There was a young girl named Dalrymple
Whose sexual needs were so simple.
She enjoyed the full spasm
Of a perfect orgasm
By frigging herself on a pimple.
Said a lovely young lady named Lake,
Pervertedly fond of a snake,
"If my good friend, the boa,
What offspring we'll leave in our wake!"
Lester Moore was a Wells, Fargo Co. station agent for
Naco, Arizona in the cowboy days of the 1880's. He's
buried in the Boot Hill Cemetery in Tombstone, Arizona:
Here lies Lester Moore
Four slugs from a .44
No Les No More.
The Killer's Apology
Here I sit, upon death row
Electrodes fastened to my toes.
And though I know that I must die
I think I should apologize
To those I know that I have wronged,
Beaten, strangled, stuck with prongs
It was not what I really meant
All those deaths were accidents.
I did not mean to murder Sam
Though I beat him with a ham.
He said the meat was much too dry
So I used his head to tenderize.
And I did not mean to dispatch Sue
by filling both her lungs with glue.
I should have known there were better
Ways for us to stick together.
I have to say I quite regret
Defenestrating my pal Chet.
But really, how was I to know
That window wouldn't just stay closed?
Becky's death -- a random fluke;
My prints were planted on that flute.
And though they searched high and low
They never found that piccolo.
I spare a moment for good ol' Jake
Who I deposited in the lake.
I always thought that he could swim;
I guess the restraints are what did him in.
And oh, how I do miss Peter
Though I stuffed him in a water heater.
He might not have made it in this verse
If I hadn'ta stuck him in head first.
Bonnie, my bonnie, my, what a lass!
Taken down by methane gas.
If I only knew then what I know now:
Don't ever mess with a farting cow.
And I'll admit, the point is moot
Albert I did electrocute.
Children, never take this risk:
Water and toasters just don't mix.
Wendy was an awful neighbor
But I'm sorry about the elevator.
I did not know she was in the thing
When I snipped the cable like a string.
I'd like to remember my good friend Drew
Who I served up in a barbecue.
It was his idea, really, because you see
He always liked to say "Eat Me."
I think I was misunderstood
When I tied up Katie in those woods
She always said she liked the bears
So I put honey in her hair.
Alan claimed he was a jock
So I crushed him with a rock.
His boast that he was made of steel
Was something rather less than real.
No one was more surprised than Joan
That ferrets stripped her to the bone.
Reflecting, I see I was foolhardy
To place bacon up and down her body.
Mike had on an amazing grin
When I set him in liquid nitrogen.
I did not do so for the hell of it;
I wanted to put him in his element.
Bob declared I was a buffoon;
I set him aloft in a weather balloon.
But there is not one who felt more grief
When that balloon popped at 45,000 feet.
Jeremy was timid, Jeremy was shy
I placed him in an oven and set it on fry.
I should have known better, that this was not
The way to help women to think he was hot.
So you see every death was quite accidental
I would not blame you if you thought I was mental.
But I would say that it is rather as such:
My problem was just that I cared too darn much.
Now here I go, to meet my God
And all of my friends that I put in the sod.
I have just one wish, if you lean close to hear:
It's to help them up there as I helped them down here.
-- John Scalzi
copyright(c) John Scalzi
John Scalzi is a columnist and humorist living in Virginia.
For more columns and essays, visit his website: www.scalzi.com
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