Or Pooping My Pants
by Alan C. Baird (turn up your speakers!)
[:69 mp3 546k]
I sat on a scorpion yesterday.
It was just a small one.
My jeans had been carelessly
thrown onto the bedroom chair,
with one leg hanging down.
Mr. Scorpion apparently crawled
up onto 'em during the night.
I'm really glad he chose "onto"
rather than "into."
I pulled on the jeans and sat down
to tie my shoes, then walked into
the kitchen to pick up my keys.
My lovely wife asked,
"Did you poop your pants?"
This woman has a charmingly
delicate way with words.
She pointed at a huge wet spot
on my butt. I replied,
"Hm. Don't think so."
When you get to my age,
you can't rule out things.
Unspeakable things.
Things the kids casually dismiss.
So we retraced my steps, and saw
the crushed scorpion on the chair.
My lovely wife freaked out.
I was just grateful I hadn't
crapped in my pants.
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