"What? Write a poem while my submission hangs."
"Never," I said, then inspiration sprang.
"I'll toss out some doggerel, cheap rhyming wit."
"Right," I replied; you can't stand that shit."
"Then maybe I'll drag my bitch 'cross the floor.
Slap her around, pound that back door."
"That works for me; I'll give her a ring."
"Grab some oil; we'll grease up that thing"
"Let's take turns, splitting that ass."
"Who gives a fuck if they give us a pass?"
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