“Love me, hot mama,” he said, “I need to get laid”

“First of all,” she replied, “Find me some shade.
And a glass of cold Mike’s lemonade.
And maybe a fine necklace of Oriental jade.
And take me to the Mardi Gras parade
And also Vegas and the Atlantic City arcade.
And only then perhaps you might have it made.”

“Aaah! Don’t be a tease,’ he said, “a female DeSade.”

“But,” she rejoined, “ I need love and romance, exotic travel, song and dance,
make my life a fun promenade.
For I’m no slut, no mutt, not easy, not rough trade.
In fact, I also want a new Escalade.
And ten different kinds of Marmalades.
And a beachfront house near the Everglades.
And if you set me up well for a good long spell,
with everything in my endless wishing well,
then you needn't be afraid or throw a tirade.
You’ll probably, maybe, might possibly just make the grade.”

“Sorry, babe,” he said, “but you’ve messed with my head and managed to purge the urge.
Adios, Chiquita, I’m changing the game and changing my name, now known as Lone Wolf McQuade.”

(Author's comment: Bet you've met somebody like her, huh? There's a factory in Malibu where they stamp out clones every few minutes.