So sad the cemetary stood,
Rows of identical crosses
Commemorating wasted lives
And pointless sacrifice for glory.
One rainlashed day I was there with a fat little **** I knew
To inspect her great-grandfather's grave;
A hero who had repeatedly groped his own daughter
Shortly before meeting death in Paschendael's slaughter.
My friend elegantly squatted, hovering o'er the grave
And performed a perfect Valsalva manoeuvre,
Depositing a well-aimed sausage thereupon.
"That's for you, you grandmotherfucker"
She gaily murmured sotto voce.
But tragedy struck: a defecation syncope
Caused her collapse, skull smashed on the gravestone;
*"I'm in the **** was her final tragic moan.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
So sad the cemetary stood,
Rows of identical crosses
Commemorating wasted lives
And pointless sacrifice for glory.
One rainlashed day I was there with a fat little **** I knew
To inspect her great-grandfather's grave;
A hero who had repeatedly groped his own daughter
Shortly before meeting death in Paschendael's slaughter.
My friend elegantly squatted, hovering o'er the grave
And performed a perfect Valsalva manoeuvre,
Depositing a well-aimed sausage thereupon.
"That's for you, you grandmotherfucker"
She gaily murmured sotto voce.
But tragedy struck: a defecation syncope
Caused her collapse, skull smashed on the gravestone;
*"I'm in the **** was her final tragic moan.
