The Scamps of Today

Witless was I till I and he
Unshackled the bonds of his modesty
And exposed a potentiality hidden
Since Eve tossed a core in her Genesis midden.
The pearls of his shirt-front fell drop by drop
Like syrup from over-sopped IHOP slop.
His belt loosened up like a python or boa
Shaken up by a quake under Krakatoa.
His shoes and socks flew off like midges,
Like a cyclone's playthings—Beemers and fridges.
The rest of his daywear we disposed of as well;
Not a stitch was left on him—he was naked as hell.
Once unsheathed, he was ripe for a physical,
A drill that approached the paradisical.
As inspections go, it was glitch-free—all aces!
Like a USDA man, I sniffed him for traces
Of parasites, spoilage, and chemical taint;
He passed every test like a Grade A saint.
What ensued isn't fit for the eyes of a minor—
Just picture a rump roast gobbled up by a diner,
A luscious flank steak dripping with butter,
A breast of chicken, and to add to the glutter:
A sausage the size of a rhino's horn
Served with sides of pea soup and steamy creamed corn.
I'll admit I'm a gorger when chow's on the table,
And I feasted for hours, till I was unable
To lift a chalice and make a toast,
Or stick out my tongue for the Holy Host.
Our business concluded, we auf Wiedersehen'ed;
The joys of communion too quickly had waned,
And I had other affairs on my docket,
Not to mention a dearth of change in my pocket.
As epilog, here I'll append this scrap-end:
The event as implied never really happened.

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The Scamps of Today