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Description
And so a man in drag began
His attempts to signify the unsigifiable failed in a cloud of elephants.
The elephants fluffed out like pink peeps and floated about the dressing room
Until our dear Nightinggale, laden with bullets gold, proceedeth his songshot in formation AK47
The shots rang out like the sound of a drum beating next to a camp fire in a dark forest
Shit-A-Shit-A-Shit-A-Shit-A-Shit-A-Shit went an elephant, who'd eaten toast at quarter to two.
The drag queen ran to and fro in a frenzy of purple feathers
Until she realised that masculinity layered twice was only as deep as the makeup she wore.
The elephant sprayed her face with his mighty trunk and washed the makeup away to the seven seas
Until competition became rife with the caustic echo of ego.
The drag queen screamed and tore out his or her hair
Until neither man nore woman lay beneath.
Only the bones and organs that are within us all, male or female
became unsure of which gender each tissue would diversify into.
The heart declared that he was a female, and the brain claimed to be male
But logic from a thousand years of literature told them so.
The heart was the strongest muscle of all, and began to question its true gender
And the liver, so neglected, decided to be androgenous.
the stomach just wanted more cheese.
And the cheese wanted a heart of its own.
but alas, it only had holes nibbled into it by a blue mouse
So the nightingale, ever the optimist, decided to command their genders with its gun
"Freeze, you gender bending freaks!" it tweeted with a high A
'Ohhh arn't you a lowly mo-fo,' said a curiously camp Allan Bennet sounding testicle.
"shut your A-hole!" replied the twittering bird
'I would if I had one" It replied.
The asshole laughed at the scene
And the sweet Nightinggale shot both testicles clean off, making our stage feminine in utmost simplicity.
She then twittered that the talking bottom hole must be a male, it was the law!
And the spleen female, to compensate for our leaned audience must demand equality in all things.
She split the brain into right and left
And thus careers in science and literature were born
On one side was the Enlightenment, and on the other Romanticism
And Bugger Samuel Coleridge if he argued about it.
And argue it he did, with every part that remained of the drag queen!
So then as the Nightingale decreed, he was buggered soundly.
And only Coleridge remained to be buggered, so he buggered himself for forty two minutes
What a lurid sight was this. And many a Sade did laugh
The nightingale demanded SILENCE!
And all fell silent on the farting wind.
And then things took an odd turn
Quite literally an odd turn
When a woman called Anna turned up on the scene.
And moaned about missing the drag show.
The queen said it would be put off till Wednesday morn
But it was already Tuesday evening, and Anna was out of caffeine pills.
So sleep did she, until the show was ready.
She awoke to find that she had missed the most miraculous transformation possible
Of man into woman or woman into man.
Or both into nothing
And nothing into both
imaginary organs filled the room
Like Many a villain doth become his own mother in feeding frenzy of the Id.
And in his mind the mother is the villain he believes he's not
But in the mirror she is merely the son that she lost.
She reached towards the mirror to embrace that boy that she now realized she hadn't loved enough in his first days
And look what had become of him. A man of mascarade, a queen of the bizzare.
She-he rustled her-his petticoats and bustle as she-he blew a kiss
Until the Nightinggale declared the end of the poem is nigh...
The drag queen swooned and decreed, "woe is me!"
and the mouse wanted its tail to be the closing sentence.
And so it was in the final sentence-- it was chopped off at the same time that the villain's head was cut off
But which one of our plucky storytellers will have the honour of the last line?
"ME!" Screamed Anna
The end. heh

Description
And so a man in drag began
His attempts to signify the unsigifiable failed in a cloud of elephants.
The elephants fluffed out like pink peeps and floated about the dressing room
Until our dear Nightinggale, laden with bullets gold, proceedeth his songshot in formation AK47
The shots rang out like the sound of a drum beating next to a camp fire in a dark forest
Shit-A-Shit-A-Shit-A-Shit-A-Shit-A-Shit went an elephant, who'd eaten toast at quarter to two.
The drag queen ran to and fro in a frenzy of purple feathers
Until she realised that masculinity layered twice was only as deep as the makeup she wore.
The elephant sprayed her face with his mighty trunk and washed the makeup away to the seven seas
Until competition became rife with the caustic echo of ego.
The drag queen screamed and tore out his or her hair
Until neither man nore woman lay beneath.
Only the bones and organs that are within us all, male or female
became unsure of which gender each tissue would diversify into.
The heart declared that he was a female, and the brain claimed to be male
But logic from a thousand years of literature told them so.
The heart was the strongest muscle of all, and began to question its true gender
And the liver, so neglected, decided to be androgenous.
the stomach just wanted more cheese.
And the cheese wanted a heart of its own.
but alas, it only had holes nibbled into it by a blue mouse
So the nightingale, ever the optimist, decided to command their genders with its gun
"Freeze, you gender bending freaks!" it tweeted with a high A
'Ohhh arn't you a lowly mo-fo,' said a curiously camp Allan Bennet sounding testicle.
"shut your A-hole!" replied the twittering bird
'I would if I had one" It replied.
The asshole laughed at the scene
And the sweet Nightinggale shot both testicles clean off, making our stage feminine in utmost simplicity.
She then twittered that the talking bottom hole must be a male, it was the law!
And the spleen female, to compensate for our leaned audience must demand equality in all things.
She split the brain into right and left
And thus careers in science and literature were born
On one side was the Enlightenment, and on the other Romanticism
And Bugger Samuel Coleridge if he argued about it.
And argue it he did, with every part that remained of the drag queen!
So then as the Nightingale decreed, he was buggered soundly.
And only Coleridge remained to be buggered, so he buggered himself for forty two minutes
What a lurid sight was this. And many a Sade did laugh
The nightingale demanded SILENCE!
And all fell silent on the farting wind.
And then things took an odd turn
Quite literally an odd turn
When a woman called Anna turned up on the scene.
And moaned about missing the drag show.
The queen said it would be put off till Wednesday morn
But it was already Tuesday evening, and Anna was out of caffeine pills.
So sleep did she, until the show was ready.
She awoke to find that she had missed the most miraculous transformation possible
Of man into woman or woman into man.
Or both into nothing
And nothing into both
imaginary organs filled the room
Like Many a villain doth become his own mother in feeding frenzy of the Id.
And in his mind the mother is the villain he believes he's not
But in the mirror she is merely the son that she lost.
She reached towards the mirror to embrace that boy that she now realized she hadn't loved enough in his first days
And look what had become of him. A man of mascarade, a queen of the bizzare.
She-he rustled her-his petticoats and bustle as she-he blew a kiss
Until the Nightinggale declared the end of the poem is nigh...
The drag queen swooned and decreed, "woe is me!"
and the mouse wanted its tail to be the closing sentence.
And so it was in the final sentence-- it was chopped off at the same time that the villain's head was cut off
But which one of our plucky storytellers will have the honour of the last line?
"ME!" Screamed Anna
The end. heh