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The young diva at the ripe age of five
already has a very vivid feminine drive:
She is fussy, cross, and has valid complaints:
-Where is the ring? You can’t get married
without the damn thing, and the minister – where’s he?
There should be one present, ya know,
And where’s your best man and where’s my best woman
(she won’t let anything spoil her grand show)
let go of my hand, you’re squeezing again,
you look such a fool in this toxic suit!
just like a loo guard in a top hat, you drive me insane
and lace up that boot, you penguilized hoot!
The groom to be, who has watched his daddy
handling female hysterics at a crises like this,
doesn’t utter a word, he would rather be with his teddy
than with this grumpy, cotton-candy bridezilla,
then he remembers there’s that dreaded kiss
she has warned him: - a French one, that is.
phhhwas that? He asks, horrified, - is it any fun?
-I dunno…French, ya know, like French toast
or French fries…something yummy and well done.
Finally, hopefully believing he may find his way out
of these imminent vows, (he has second thoughts…),
he protests: - your fingers are sticky! (this may just bail him out),
You’ve been cheating on me! You‘ve been at the wedding cake
poking your fingers and licking about, you fake twat!
I shouldn’t have played this stupid game, this was a mistake,
hardly containing his joy, he says with the best false remorse:
–anyways, gosh, it would only have ended in a nasty divorce!
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
You've got some great phrases in here, and the imagery is good all-around. This gave me a big smile and I thank you so much for sharing it!
rachel
