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!”