Across the bar from where I sit
I'm list'ning to a sexist snit.
Both biased in their attitudes
Toward male and female aptitudes.
“Oh yesh men are, you pampered prig.”
“Shez who,” she belched, ”you macho pig.”
Thus back and forth their spat ensued
When crudely boasted drunken dude.
“One manly thing you must agree,
Higher than you, a man can pee.”
“I’ll tell you what,” she poked his chest.
“Let’s go out back and see who’s best.”
'Tween tipsied pair I've been viewing,
A tinkle match was surely brewing.
I have no clue how she’d compete,
But truly has my int’rest piqued.
Thus I followed to alley way
To sneak a peek and watch the fray.
“I'm first," she said, "you puffed-up creep.
Now step aside, then watch and weep.”
Hell bent to end their sexist wars,
She lifted skirt and dropped her drawers.
Then arching back she wet the wall;
Whizzed half as high as he was tall.
“Beat that, you twit, as you can see
I’d managed quite a lofty pee.”
“Ha ha, not bad for ditzy blonde,
Now comes the champ with wicked wand.”
But as he pulled his weapon out
And aimed it high about to spout,
She tapped his arm and said so sweet:
“Uh, ah-h— like me: no hands, can't cheat.”
His manly pride just hung exposed.
Nary an inch his pistol hosed.
“Oh well," she smirked, "looks like you lose,”
And left him mute with soggy shoes.
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