Gone With the Wind
Mrs Trafer, in need of assistance,
attended her surgery hence;
stricken by swelling of stomach
and critically vile flatulence.
She cleared the waiting room swiftly,
as her wind drummed a tune on the chair;
from potential of asphyxiation
she soon was the only one there.
Her doctor, he listened in silence
as her grim tale of woe was begun;
each work punctuated by rasping
after making it's way off her tongue.
After several minutes duration,
the doc bade her take off her clothes;
she lay on his couch, her behind hot and bare
wreaking hideous offence to his nose.
The doc said: "I sure see your problem,
I think I have just what we need."
He left then returned with long pole and hook,
his expression contorted and weird.
Mrs Trafer, she shrieked in abhorrence,
let rip with a volley of air:
"You're not touching me with that dirty great thing,
whoever you are, I don't care!"
"This isn't for you," said the medic.
"Dear lady, I beg, have no fear.
This device is to open a window
for it stinks to high heaven in here!"
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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