Freekin pay toilets give me the willies why the hell do we tolerate this crap I'm thinkin they autta make a new reality series featuring little known inventors maybe call it 'K, YOU Deal With This Shit' and they get the guy what thought up pay pissers take his ass to a public place like the Washington Monument or some shit where all they's got in the way of facilities is then damn freekin pay toilets...

only no one has thought of that but the producers
and the reality show host guy tells Mr. Pay-As-You-Go
today we salute you - a real man of genius
so if ya can drink down 5 gallons of Bud Lite
yer gonna win all kindsa shit
so of course he chugs it down
cause it sure as hell beats eatin worms like on them other shows...

and then when he's downed it all
and he thinks he's the freekin man
ya don't give him no prize at all
instead ya steals his change
and the rest of the show
is him half dancin - half staggerin around
really drunk and really really having to pee
tryin to get into all these pay hoppers without any coin
and the show's installed barriers everywhere
so diving under the door aint a possibility
and he's beggin strangers fer spare change
and he knows he can't just do it out in the open
cause he's on a nationally televised reality show
until finally he wee weezes his freekin pants...

it's easy to think up TV shows like this
when yer in a public pisser and ya has just washed yer hands
and ya look around and all they have is these freekin blow yerself dry machines...

there aint nothing sanitary
bout this method of dryagement
ya has to press an "on" button
what's got like a gazillion peeple's
weasel juices and snot all over it
and then ya rubs that into yer skin under heat
so all those weasel juice microorgazisms start breedin...

aside from this biological terrorism
all these freekin blow yerself dry machines do
is blow the water off yer hands onto yer pants
and now it looks like you pisst yerself
so you goes back to yer table...

and yer date gives yer lap that look like
*my gawd this man can't even clear his zipper*
so ya try to sit down as quickly as possible
and put yer freeking napkin over yer lap...

only you ferget that just before you got up
you spit that gawd awful creamed corn into yer napkin
without her seeing you...

ya only ordered the creamed freekin corn
to impress her after she went on at length
about how much she likes creamed corn
and how this place makes
the finest creamed corn in the werld
and well you wanted to make a good impression
so now yer lap's not only wet
its got this big creamy spot on it...

and it's not like you can sit there
with yer hands under the table
and rigorously try to rub it off yer lap
so instead ya looks into her eyes and smile
whilst ya feels the creamed corn oozing through yer underwear...

and yer thinking if she won't let you in her apartment later
ya mite as well stop at the freeking store
and pick up a can o' creamed corn
cause lord knows what's goin on in yer lap rite now
is like the only thing what's happent down there
since the doctor tole you to cough...

and what's up with that
I has never keeled over
nor has I ever even heard of anyone keeling over
when they do that cough test
but they always tells ya to do it
and what makes it werse is that ya pays 'em to do it...

but then the waiter enderupts yer trains of thought
and he's all "Is everything alrite?"
like yer really gonna say
"hell no everything ain't alrite
I gotta wet lapfull of creamed corn
I'm paying the doctor to fondle my balls
and I had to climb under the door
of the freeking pay toilet
acause I only has ONE quarter
and that's yer freekin tip"...

so ya just mumble "yeah everything's fine"
then to impress this chick you add
"please give my compliments to the chef for the superb creamed corn"
what makes her smile all wide
and that's when ya notice
she's got creamed corn stuck atween her front teeth
cept at first you don't know what it is
cause it's stained red from the wine...

then she notices you lookin at her all weerdlike
and starts wondering what the hell is wrong with her
so she says she needs to use the lady's room
and picks up her purse
which is a bad sign
cause you know whats up when they be toting the purse in there
and why the hell di'n't she just tell you she had to wash her hair or some shit
BEFORE ya ordered this freekin creamed corn...

when she stops and says "do you have a quarter?"... well ya can't tell her to crawl under the freekin door I mean not on the first date anyways... so ya stands up to get the one freekin quarter you has out yer pocket and she sees the mess you has goin on in yer lap as yer fumblin around in yer pocket and yer thinking, damn this date aint goin too well...

so you gives her the quarter and she leaves
you check out her ass and sit down
figgerin, ok this would be a good time
to try an clean this shit off yer lap
so yer rubbing it with the corner of the tablecloth
and the waiter comes over and aks if there's a problem
prolly cause the glasses are splashing
and the silverware is clacking and stuff
and you say no problem
you just has half a freekin can of creamed corn in yer lap
and stand up to show him...

and he falls to his knees
pulls a wisk broom outta his pocket
and starts wiskin yer lap off
when just then yer date comes back
and gives you one of those looks as she sits down
what says "I aint never gonna run a personal ad again"
and now the waiter's got his hand out
either waiting on a gratuity fer wiskin down yer lap
or getting ready to aks you to cough
but ya already gave his tip to yer date
so thinking fast you tell the waiter
"We'll be having coffee now"
and he skips off to get Mr. Coffee hot...

then - as ya sits back down in yer chair
trying to come up with some way to regain a shred of dignutty
ya sits down on yer napkin
the one what's loaded up with creamed corn
only ya can't react to that
cause yer tryin to be all cool and shit
so you smile and say "tell me about yerself"...

and while she's blabbin on bout her job at walmart
yer trying to nonchlantly get the napkin out from under yer ass
when she stops in mid sentence
cause shes sees yer tuggin on yer seat
so ya freeze in mid-tuggage - and yer like, wut...

but the waiter comes over just then with the coffee
and eyeing yer hand under yer seat
aks if there's anything else you be needing
and yer thinking
get the hell away from me with yer wisk broom
acause you don't go that way
though apparently he does
(you can always tell by which hand has the limp wrist)
so you tells him no thanks and he goes away...

and that's when she starts telling you
about the week long scanner training she just received
and ya notice she's still got that freekin corn
atween her teeth but what the hey
yer sittin on a load of creamed corn
so you just keeps noddin all uh huh uh huh
when she tells you she just remembered
she's gotta make a phone call and excuses herself...

and you figger this is a good time
to try and get this creamed corn offa yer pants
so you run to the men's room
take yer trowelzers off
and yer running the crotch under the faucet
when yer waiter comes in
looks at yer drawers with a bit too much endtrest
only he must have to go really bad
acause he dives under the stall door...

so you decide
that yer gonna have to finish this with yer pants on
cause when he gets outta that stall
you don't wanna be standing there in yer undies...

so ya zips up
and bend over in front of the blow yerself dry machine
and just after ya gets done drying yer seat
out crawls yer waiter
and yer standing there
thrusting yer lap at the blow yerself machine
tryin to reach the jet stream
beatin on the button so it stays hot
and he's giving you that look the doctor gives you
when he's putting that finger rubber on
and motioning you to the table...

so you check yer lap
and sure enough it's dry
though still a bit crusty
and now yer wishing you had one of those wisk broom thingys
only not that bad
so you quickly leave and go back to yer table...

where ya finds a note what says
"sorry I had to run, my grandmother died
and I has to move to Hungary
so I guess this is goodbye"...

so ya put the whole mess
creamed corn and all on yer VISA card
and as yer walkin out the door
this dawg comes up cause he smells the corn
and you know how dawgs are about creamed corn
well so he starts trying to get his nose in yer crotch
and if ya has ever tried to hail a taxi
when you has a dawg sniffin yer crotch
you know how unlikely it is that they'll stop
I mean the taxi too...

someone tole me once
or I dreamt it, I ferget
that creamed corn is harvested
by settin buckets in front of cows as they chew their corn
but don't werry about all the cow drool
cause it's gonna be pasturized
once it's allowed to ferment a while
and then it's mechanically separated
so as to get that real southern flavor...

this might be Hungarian.

it's prolly best to just stay the freekin hell away from creamed corn fer yer own benefit and for the benefit of all unless yer in Hungary cause my gawd I think that's like all they eat over there they prolly has the sloppiest cows in the entire werld except maybe Canada but Canadiantic cows eat wheat...

I imagine there's prolly no better feelin
than sittin up in Canada somewheres
jumpin outta bed in the mornin all refreshed
cause it's like 40 freekin degrees below 0 celcius
and yer in the same coat and hat and earmuffs and show shoes
what you slept in
and instead of werryin bout if yer freekin lights
are gonna come on when ya starts up the car
yer able to sit back, relax
and slurp up a steamy hot bowl
of fresh WheatBucket Authentic Canadianized Cream o Wheat...

and just then
that reality show host guy
taps ya on the shoulder and says
"ok, Mr. How-The-Hell-Did-You-Come-Up-With-The-Idea-Fer-Collectin-Cow-Dribblins
the man responsible for all these cans of creamed corn
so stockpiled they's nearly fallin off the grocery store shelves
since ya ate 5 gallons of
WheatBucket Authentic Canadianized Cream o Wheat
yer gonna win all kindsa shit"...

and the wimmin all want that gazillion dollars bad enough to come on to you, the King of Creamed Corn so they're suckin up to ya sayin stuff like "there's just something special about the way ya leave a trail" and "let's make popcorn big boy" and "dayam dude, I gets damp just lookin at how damp you are"... I dunno how they come up with this crap they haven't gotten around to puttin on TV yet

so anyways there it is
the stark reality
of mixin creamed corn with a date
or good freekin greef,
mashed potatoes.

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