Fenton Gives A Fuck (A Vulgar And Awfully Amateurish Poem)

A fellow named Fenton, one soft summer morn

Declined to go fishing as sure as you’re born

His friends all persuaded, cajoled, even cried

But at last they gave up, though it injured their pride

Poor Fenton was sorry, oh, truly he was

He did want to go, but he couldn’t because

Poor Fenton was vexed and beset by a trouble

For he blew and he blew but his milk would not bubble

He tried using a fan, he tried using a straw

He blew and he blew ’til his blower was raw

He was mightily peeved, and the more peeved he got

The more solid he set himself right in that spot

When a wee whistling voice spoke right up, “Whatcha doin?

Why’s ya huffin’ and puffin’ and chokin’ and spewin’?”

Well, Fenton was startled and slightly bamboozled

“What are you?” he asked, “A whatsit? A Woozle?”

“No, you dimwitted shithead!” the tiny voice spoke

“I’m the fuck that you’re giving, you stumblecock joke!”

“You’re so hyperfocused on doing that trick

You’re forgetting to live! You know, you make me sick!

Wasting time on minutiae and pointless diversions

When you could be out there taking epic excursions!

Drop that straw, omnicunt, you, and take to the streets!

Take photos, make music — yes! — drop some sick beats!

Woo the ladies (or gents) in a happening nightclub!

Or go get in trouble and talk about Fight Club!

But this shit is boring, of that there’s no doubt!”

And Fenton’s last Fuck slugged him and said, “I’m out!”

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