A Promise Is a Promise

All right, let's get this over with.

Ready for takeoff.

Today's topic: the humble wiener.



Quck Meat Meals with Sack O' Sauce.
*gigglez*

Here's a little warm-up for you.




And now, because my readers suffer from dick on the brain and I am nothing if not accommodating of their interests, I present this.

Ode to the Pee-Pee.

The promise of a penis is the premise of this post.
A protuberance of prominence to which Priapus was host.
Whether plumped for procreation
Or produced for urination
People praise its perfect placement and precision uppermost.

The purpose of this popular peripheral is plain,
Protruding from the pelvis like a public water main
To perform as plumbing, that is,
It's the proper apparatus
To promote proficient passage into pipes or down the drain.

Pleased to perk up at the promise of a petting or a prance,
It pops up perpendicular and pushes at the pants
Of the person it pertains to
As propulsively it strains to
Be permitted to the party and procure a poke perchance.

While practical for peeing and providing passing pleasure,
The package isn't perfect, as expected of a treasure.
Not so pretty as Prince Paris,
And it perches there precarious,
And inspires apprehension and propensity to measure.

But perfection in the penis possibly is past the point.
The Prince of All Protrusions it's appropriate to anoint.
Put the phallus in perspective,
Petty problems irrespective,
It's a pretty peachy parcel and a purely peerless joint.

Copyright 2012, www.always-drunk.com

Like it? I'll send you a lovely printed copy if you want. Just let me know. You sickos.