This poem was inspired by a 'joke' that supposedly actually happened. (It was in a local paper.)

A shy, modest man had digestive tests
in a hospital where such tests are best.
Gave him an enema, then let him rest.
His tummy rumbled . . . nothing,
again rumbled . . . nothing,
thirdly it tumbled . . . nothing,
the fourth time--he filled the sheets!

Ewww, phewww, what was a modest man to do?
Stinky, messy, he used it as tissue!

He threw it out the window. The sheet flew.
The drunk on the street had more than a few.
It fell on his head . . . his first thought: ‘phewww’.
Cursing, mumbling, he punched it,
socked it as if in a fit,
“Officer, come help me a bit.”
(A cop, hovering near, drew his stick.)

“This horrid ghost flew down . . . I can’t be blamed;
beat the crap out of him,” the drunk proudly claimed.


***1st review: I enjoyed "Beat The Sheets". I think it was very well written in a delightful humorous way.

Love YF
tony:)