Recently I had been asked by a New Orleans newspaper to submit a hangover remedy to be published for all the deviants and bon vivant’s of the service industry pre-Tales of the Cocktail. Was told this remedy could range from the who-do voodoo to the lighthearted. Never missing the opportunity to be unapologetic about my personality and passion for taking things too far (sorry mom), I of course jumped at this favorable circumstance. Turns out that the amino acids found in bacon work quit well for nausea and hanky-panky for those splitting headaches we wake up with the morning after. In my 11th grade creative writing course, I was told that I had a better chance becoming president than ever having any of my poetry published; losing many of nights sleep over this crippling comment (suck it Mr. Kramer), I decided to write it in said medium. Next stop…The White House!
Sexy Mr. Bacon
Gorging on bacon will ease your morning after,
A penance you’ll pay to the nights booze soaked laughter.
You feel woozy and nauseous and we all can relate,
But your fate is more kind than the pig’s on your plate.
You feel like you’ve eaten ’til you’re filled to the brim,
Now clear out the bathroom and sit on the rim.
It’s a time to be humble, but no time to pout,
Bacon’s a friend going in, but not coming out.
If a pounding of skull is something you feel,
Then a pounding you need and a climax that’s real.
A companion who’s close, but none of your buddies,
A lover is needed for bumping of uglies.
Not a time or a place to stop at each base,
There’s a job to be done, so pick up the pace.
Those who are reading that might think this a joke,
Please test out this theory, then light up a smoke.