While I farted, weak and weary,
Trying to fill a pot with shit;
Suddenly there came a snapping
As of someone loudly crapping,
Crapping on my kitchen floor.
"Ah, 'tis some visitor," I muttered;
As I did, my anus shuddered,
Shuddered at the feel of rocky shit.
Then -- and again -- I farted;
My anus buzzed, the gas departed.
I worked in vain to spew my shit.
Stumbling down the hallway quickly,
My rectum feeling very prickly,
I shoved my way through the kitchen door.
Amiss in there, I saw but nothing,
Only pots and pans and stuffing;
Nothing of a crackling butt.
Taking leave, I lowly grumbled,
"I was sure a butt-hole rumbled,
Farting like a renting quilt."
Then, from the front door, loudly;
An arse was squealing, then roaring proudly,
I then hastened to unclose the door.
From the dismal dark unending
Came an odor most offending,
Filling my sinus with a stench deplored.
Peered I long into the night;
I saw no one, black nor white.
Stench and blackness, nothing more.
In memory of "Wally." 1959-2004