Monday, February 14, 2011


A Valentine's Day poem of sorts:

What do I think of Theodore Pink, that scum-bag who lives right next door?
Well, first off, he's crazy, pretentious and lazy, up-tight and an infinite bore.
Each time that he passes, I put on sunglasses so he will not stay to converse;
For Theodore Pink, who really does stink, smells like a wet dogbut worse.

Some call the boy Teddy; I call him Spaghetti 'cause his hair is a noodle-y mess.
Some say he's a saint, but I say he ain'tthat he's wildly evil's my guess.
I hate, hate, hate, hate people saying he's great; it makes me want to shove him.
That Theodore Pink, a detestable fink, I actually think I might love him.