when just a whippersnapper
   of a little boy
me late mum and octogenarian pop agreed
for doctor removal of my adenoid
less to prevent their only son
   from being coy

than fear of said male heir
   to the harris throne becoming an android
a less than agreeable likelihood,
   especially in tandem
   with predilection of goy

this fateful outcome unfazed,
   this now green giant, not the least bit annoyed
as captain crunch (before childhood didst end
   i.e. distend into middle age)
   beckoned yours truly with “A HOY”

horrified that my parents would be so blithe
   to steer their son clear to avoid
psychotic outcome to deliver obliviousness,
   and thus bring inner joy

so, they sent their peculiar male progeny
   believing himself to be Pink Floyd
who found himself evicted desperately,
   and in sore need of gainful m ploy

so he began his therapy in orifice
   er office of Sigmund Freud
who bore a striking resemblance
   to a wooden pecked prickly shaped toy

   (a pickle iz just a pickle)
this mental analysis delved into past –
   outcome I felt less than overjoyed
despite boss be addressed as Oedipus,

   and pay verbal homage that did cloy
dredging layered past devoid
of love, yet flush with fallacious
   prevaricated abuse from mister Lloyd
Lavinsky, a demon of a grade school bully
   forsooth sanity he destroyed!