Sitting at McDonald's at a table up from an old guy in painter attire taking his lunch break. Wolfing down his food he talked on his phone all the while .As he commented about his day and asked about whoever was on the phone .He must have been asked about his meal.Stopping to lay his sandwich down he eyed it
With disgust and before resuming its consumption said",It ain't much but maybe it will make a turd "
Waite there's more.As he struggles to navigate his belly out of the booth he audibly farted said" What did you say girl ,Timmy is in the well,laughed to himself and left.
You can't make this crap up.
Guess he was stuck in the **** stage.Perhaps I am as well.I am inexplicably drawn to a certain type of companion that in the name of rehabilitation shall remain nameless.
B- box
E- everything up
L- level
L- let
Y- yet
O- open
U- up
T- tasks
04/05/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
2018©
Max, the politician, wields a razor-sharp axe,
Slicing his chicken-bleep opponents' necks and backs.
"How dare they accuse me of power politics?" Max asks,
Innocent jowls masking the jaws of a shark's attack.
His gangland campaign staff for money never lacks;
Max' men shake down local pimps, and dealers of cocaine and crack.
As for the fuzz, Max is hip; he's got the inside track:
Scoring deals for them on the best ecstasy and smack.
First elected back in '72, Max walked the length and breadth of the state,
A reformer, he was, a renegade; at least the voters thought so and fell for the bait.
Ensconced in palatial power ever since, Max has glad-handed, partied, drank, and ate.
A 'politician's pol' all these years, his formidable paunch and polling punch have proven great.
Belly out over his belt, this balloon of a man once again challenges fate,
Can he hang on again in 2018, or will this be Max' last hurrah on the party's election slate?
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