Uncle Fester/Lester's Pot Roast

I'll need the first few lines... to set this up for you... and once again, my word, this really is quite true... a co-worker at my last job, a part-timer he really was, became quickly known as a slob, and rather odd, or so the buzz seems each day he had, the very same, same old meal, which his wife had made for him, to him it was no big deal... he was kind'a funny looking, like the uncle in the family Addam, I can't help but wonder... how many of you can this really fathom. and now to the poem proper only hope it's a show stopper... uncle Fester-Lester his buttered hands do greet, enclosed in his tupperware- his roast- a "better cut of meat..." oh, my God, it's awful... to see his toothless bite, chomping on his pot roast... a most disturbing sight!! gravy drooling down his chin, makes me awful sick, makes me wanna' vomit, like gagging on a stick!! pot roast Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, pot roast Thursday, Friday too... it never seems to vary.... for this toothless man's yucky goo, butter, gravy on the desk, beef shards you can be sure... increases his great beauty... and endless sex allure.... now he eats his pot roast, at a different desk, all that I can assure you, is he still makes a frigg'en mess and if one were to ask him, how is it that he so dares? he would grin, at once, quite toothless, and say "Why?...who, who cares?"