Tag Archives: Weird

Story Time, 2321

Today we remember the world’s greatest dancer

Who ten score years earlier passed on from cancer.

Before she succumbed to the tumors and such

She lived a grand life and accomplished so much:

She was the first woman to dance on the moon,

The first to make contact with the Laser Raccoon,

The inventor of Carbon, the first scrambler of eggs,

And ZZ Top’s inspiration to write “She’s Got Legs.”

When she was young people said she was odd

For she went to the pet store and adopted a God.

As she grew older her thoughts turned to war

And where once there was everything there soon was no more,

So she let her pet rebuild quite a bit

While she spent her time just relaxing a bit.

Then she saw an ad in a paper one day

And, on a whim, chose to take up ballet.

She learned how to twirl and wear tutus and stuff

And discovered ballet was incredibly tough…

Much tougher than crushing rebellions, they say…

Worse even than smelling some Axe body spray.

She struggled and sweated, for she felt it vital

That she must be ready for her first recital.

She struggled and strained through each pirouette

‘Til she was the best that a dancer could get.

Some people had doubted, had mocked her and laughed

But after she danced they all saw how they’d gaffed.

“Alas,” they cried out as she do-si’d her do

And those who felt proud suddenly felt quite low.

And as she bowed low and the watchers applauded

And her majesty great by the critics was lauded

She said the five words that ended her tale:

She said “I was born biologically male.”

The entire world raged and volcanoes erupted

As their heroine’s image by sin was corrupted

And so she was wiped from the pages of history

And now even her name is no more than a mystery.

Some people will tell you this poem’s not funny,

That I am just lying ‘cause I want your money,

But know that this legend is utterly true

Or the Earth isn’t flat and the sky isn’t blue.

And if you say otherwise, I’ll have you know

There’s a place where all bad kids like you have to go…

The worst prison ever, a hell of a jail

Reserved for those convicted of being a white male.

That’s all for today, little wards of the state.

Now go home and remember, love is better than hate.

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Fashion Magazines

You may think me presumptuous,

Perhaps you’ll think me rude,

But I have to wonder

How women and some gay dudes

Published some airbrushed photos

And said, “This is beauty now,”

And everyone said “Ok, cool.”

But seriously… how?

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Find Someone Who Loves Your Crazy?

I asked this girl that I just met

“What things make you feel upset?”

She said, “When I need to cry

“But alligators attack me from the sky.”

Then, like kind girls tend to do,

She asked “That’s me… how ’bout you?”

“Mostly milk, but also a falling gator.”

Then we agreed to marry later.

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Whole Milk

I poured myself a glass of milk,

White as clouds and soft as silk,

Then put powdered milk in the cup

And took a spoon and stirred it up,

Then I poured condensed milk in

And, with the spoon, gave it a spin.

It was at this point, to my dismay,

My buxom girlfriend ran away.

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Never Doubt Your Business Ideas Again

Somebody once thought

We should take the white things chickens poop

And break them in a pan

Over a fire

Until they’re still damp

But also really warm

Then cover them in fermented milk

And dehydrated seawater

And fill them with vegetables no one likes

And sell them to husbands for $18

To appease their sexually frustrated wives

And call it brunch.

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What A Bunch Of Suckers…

Once upon a time there was sugar

Until some guy made a ball

That was entirely made out of sugar

But harder to swallow it all

And people decided to buy it,

This sugary sphere that was built,

For to swallow ten times as much spit in a day

But without all that damnable guilt.

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He Didn’t See That Coming Either

I met a guy

Who was afraid of the ocean,

The salt and the seaweed

And unending motion.

I said “You can fix it!

“Come swimming with me!”

Then I murdered and canned him

‘Cause he was Chicken of the Sea.

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YA Romance Writers, Take Note

While I was making sweet, sweet love

To my canoe, I thought:

“Just because your love’s forbidden

“Doesn’t mean it’s hot.”

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Millennial Parenting Takes Another Small Step

If your name were Bedtime

And asked for a bedtime story

People might share anecdotes

Of you in all your glory.

Your children might get all confused

When it’s their rest-your-head time

And you ask them to ask you

“Tell me a story, Bedtime?”

Or say you want a lesson

In a subject like history

And you have to tell somebody

“Tell me, Bedtime, a story.”

One thing no one asks though

Is why Bedtime isn’t sad

When he tells the story of the time

He killed his mom and dad…

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Of Birds and… Other Stuff

The sun was a brilliant scarlet

Upon the rustling brush,

Redder than a hemorrhoid

Who’s asking out its crush.

Within the brush are little jays,

Their feathers dark and blue

Much like the mood experienced

When one eats eyeball stew.

The birds were eating insects

So tiny and so green

Like little child soldiers

Or polytetrafluoroethylene.

The birds, thus having eaten

Flew off to sunset orange.

Alas, this leaves no conclusive rhyme

But judging by the imagery of previous examples, I doubt you’re disappointed.

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