Stuff In Your Mouth

The stream of office quiet was suddenly sliced When a co-worker violently kicked out of his chair And angrily emitted, “For the love of *@#*% Christ.” He carried on with clearly more rage to share, “What the *@#*% gives you the *@#*% right To *@#*% my *@#*% life and *@#*% bare, Your *@#*% can *@#*% out of the *@#*% sand.” I began to fear he’d seriously pop an important gland So when his vulgarity stammered down to a pause, I jumped in with confusion to slow down his cause, “Woo wee, you have got stuff in your mouth That I would not even hold in my hand.”