FINAL UPDATE at bottom. “Milk?”
UPDATE! Scroll down — the first part is in top posted mode, but the rest is bottom posted.
This will take a sec to unwind:
Brother Steve has lunch with his work friends every Friday. I call it his “gay lunch” although in fairness, there’s no reason to suspect gayness on anyone’s part and in fact, Steve has roundly denied it.
Meanwhile, I’ve made my lustful admiration of the adorable Martha Plimpton clear, but he’s not into her (apparently, for some reason other than gayness.)
The “Doody” theme to our ongoing battles is already known…
From: Brian Jones
Date: Thu, Oct 27, 2011 at 10:16 AM
Subject: Re: You ALL are…
The Doody Lunch Club was aflutter
As Steve was sometimes heard to mutter,
“My brother, the simpleton
Just loves Martha Plimpton:
A *woman,* so pardon my shudder.”
On Thu, Oct 27, 2011 at 9:57 AM, Steve Meckleburg wrote:
> Subject: You *all* are
> …doody heads. You, Lee, and Kevin, the Doody Lunch Club.
> Not bitter, just sayin’.
Steve responded with two desperate attempts at smackdown:
Au contraire, mon frer,
To the drawing board thou must repair.
You say she’s a woman
But if closer you zoom in,
You’ll see nads dangling there.
I, on the other hand, know
A woman from a hag on a show.
A woman has heft
And naught in her cleft
But a slot where my peepee can go.
(The last of which, ew.)
My response, a desperate attempt to make peace and why can’t we both be right:
Is there room in that flint of a heart
For more forms of womanly art?
While Martha lacks girth
She’s real down-to-earth
And her teats, though scanty, are tart.
Alas, peace was not to be found, as Steve responded:
Aye, some room I can make
For things in the form of pancake.
But I like mine best
Not served on a chest,
But hot and buttery, on a plate.
Well, so be it:
Steve, you odious twat
You can see for yourself, she’s not flat.
So your favorite hookers
Are all sporting bazookas.
Those’re nice! So are her snub-nose gats.
I’ll give Steve the final word. Well, maybe.
Good luck getting some milk
From wizened founts of that ilk.
If I wanted erasers
I’d buy Eberhard-Fabers
Not grope within Martha’s silk.