Stu and His Glue

Here’s a weird story:  I have this friend Stu,

And Stu liked to do real weird things with glue.

He’d sniff it, and lick it, and throw it on walls,

He liked to glue glitter on both of his balls.

 

So one day the phone rings, and I see that it’s Stu,

I answer and hear him shout, “Help! I need you!”

I ask him what’s wrong,  he speaking real fast,

But he tells me his FINGER is glued up his ass!

“I don’t know what to do! You have to come quick!”

The image of Stu’s congested asshole was making me sick.

He’s almost crying at this point, and I’m thrown for a loop,

When he asks me what happens when he has to poop.

“My ass is corked up, I made a mistake!

For some reason I thought that this would feel great,

But now I feel awful, and completely ashamed,

And I’m the only one that can be blamed!”

 

So I go over to Stu’s to see what I can do,

And that idiot’s in his bathroom with no pants and an ass full of glue.

The only thing I could even think to ask,

Was, “You do know we’re gonna have to turkey baste DRANO up your ass.”

At first he looked scared, but he had no choice,

And I could hear the nervousness in his voice.

He asks, “Is it gonna hurt,” and I give him a shrug,

Probably not as much much as his current ass plug.

 

So I go get the Drano, and the baster as well,

And Stu looks a little calmer, as far as I can tell.

“I’m ready” he says, and then he bends over,

And I say, “O HELL no, you’re basting your OWN asshole, Soldier.”

I hand him the baster and explain real slow,

And make sure the procedure is laid out real thorough.

I tell him, “Put it up to your ass, and give it a squeeze.

And Stu, be very careful please.”

I walk out the bathroom and suddenly stop,

Cuz I hear a loud and relieving pop!

“My finger is out!”  I hear Stu exclaim.

“But all this glue makes it look like my asshole just came!”

After about 20 minutes when things had calmed down,

I said, “Stu, no more glue.”  He said, “OK,” quietly and stared at the ground.

NOW when he sees glue, he just clenches his butt,

And thinks, “Elmer would roll over in his grave if he knew what I glued shut.”

 

About UngerTheInfluence

Unger, (known by his first name "Ryan" to only is parents), spends his time exploring consciousness and pondering important questions like: "Why are we here?" "What's the meanng of life?" "Where's the rest of my LSD?" Always a lover, most times a dancer, never a fighter. He's morally against stress, and advocates a Zen mind. Residing right outside New York City, Unger tries his best to avoid the consumerist culture that infests Manhattan by spending his time writing vulgar poetry. Unger will tell you he finds it incredibly fascinating that poetry is the route that life has taken him.

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