- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Immaculate Reception
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I just want to thank my Lord and Savior,
the flashy wide receiver told the assembled paparazzi.
Listening to this, his Lord and Savior's previously placid
stomach gave rise to a hurricane.
His Lordship deemed the toothsome wide receiver a major schmuck
and hated the Bengals based on their uniforms alone.
But He had to cover the 10.5 point spread He so foolishly gave Lucifer.
Goddamn that eternal deceiver! (But then He already had, hadn't He?)
He needed to do something really impressive now,
something to atone for the divine stickum with which He had anointed
the despicable wide receiver's paws.
Maybe another tsunami.
No, those secular humanist assholes would just pin it
on plate tectonics once again.
He needed to do something really impressive this time,
perhaps another portrait of Mom in a grilled cheese sandwich.
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