Entry for "Spam Hunters" Warning: Really terrible Poetry. 1 Star is the envy! |
Day 1 prompt:THE WABASHA STREET CAVES, St. Paul, MN: During Prohibition, the caves hosted delinquent dignitaries such as John Dillinger and Ma Barker at its speakeasy, but not everyone left dancing the Charleston. The caves are said to be haunted by three gangsters who were massacred in a back room and buried under the cement floors. Owner Donna Bremer says her employees and guests have seen figures dressed in suits from the '20s, and strange mists float through the halls. A ghost bartender refills wine glasses and the apparition of a madam named Nina Clifford appears -- and disappears -- in full period costume. There once was an old coot named Hormy Who fancied “porking" at a certain hotel The bars hidden there could be gittin’ to by movin’ a chair and ringing a bell Hormy would drink, but ‘twas mostly a slurp Then pounded his chest to release a huge burp The buxom owner of the caves dropped her shirt in his face And the bar stool spun ‘round in its place. A shoot-out began with three ornery men Or was it two men and a beast? For a woman, she could really pass for ‘em They were all covered-up in the dust of concrete looking for something porky to eat, Some kinds of meat unnaturally beat,was certainly high on the list. Add the gelatin too, and let it giggle, Wiggle and dance with a jazzy jiggle ‘cause there’s always room for that to eat. Mr. Horny-Mel he was gettin’ all a-panicked - so much so, his tongue could not speak, But with a ghost pouring his spirits, his tongue got loosed, Then he yelled out as his lips he done licked “This is the last straw -- I won’t accept more, I won’t take such shit No,not even for tits!" With that diatribe said quite-neat The man took a stand, and got off his seat He looked at the floor and pissed on his feet And proclaimed he couldn’t get nookie This is for
It is meant to be horrible. If you find this terrible, horrible, offensive to the senses, then please rate a 1 Star. |