Sonnet for My Roommate
Shall I compare thee to a boiled egg?
Thou art more rotund and more flatulent:
Rough winds do shake the rims of my Touareg
And my passenger-side door now has a dent:
Sometimes too hot, your flatus burns my eyes
And often is my suffering vision dimmed;
And my very brain, by the thousands of cells, dies
By hypoxic shock through nose hairs —alas!—just trimmed;
Will thy eternal stench ever fade
Since thou lost possession of that fart thou didst ownest?
Or shall Death haunt some fairer-smelling glade
To escape the burrito stench from which thou groanest?
So long as men cannot breathe, or eyes cannot see,
So long lives this, and this takes life from me.
(after Shakespeare's Sonnet XVIII...with apologies to the Bard, who probably appreciated a fart joke)
Sent as a joke to Pen Pushers Publications
