A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about a guy who was fixated on his bowel function, and how crazy he was regarding that problem. This is just a short sequel.
What A Bother
I don’t need to know about
Your bowel habits, sir,
I don’t need the circumstance
The when, the why, the were,
And no one else, includes
Your children, wife and father,
No one wants to hear about
Your bowels, what a bother.
When you were working your career
An executive, is what I heard,
You must have been the Type-A kind
An obsessive-compulsive bird,
Controlling all of the company crap
And snooping in personal files,
You're retired now, to constipation
With painful, itchy piles.
Now top it off, you’re infected
We call it “contact isolation”,
Every trip into your room, sir
Is like a third-world destination,
Please roll over now, it’s time
For your daily disimpaction,
With smiles around we cater-up
To earn your patient satisfaction.