squirrelking.com

Dear eHarmony,
Stop searching for my soulmate.
Find me a glandmate.

Rosalind’s pea soup photo and a poem constructed of
genuine Jonesey and Rosalind comment parts.

Soup on that Hausfrau Lady’s fingers
and the tricky de-toweling step
Cold pea soup is so magnificent
no one wants to disturb it
Holding Celtic Crosses to their foreheads
while waving strings of garlic
Anyone can roast beef, they say,
but few can pee soup

There once was a cranky old bald guy
who wanted to stare at some bare thigh
At the nudie bar stage
he passed middle age
spending cash like the Sultan of Brunei

I am an argyle sweater vest —
100% cashmere, men’s size L
I’m gray and green and purple and gold
Brand new with tags
No stains, snags, pulls or rips
Shipped as shown (model not included)

I live in a drawer in Argyle, Wisconsin
and in cyberspace, on eBay
Three hours and four minutes remain
in my seven day listing
Starting bid: US $29.50
Current bid: US $29.51

I don’t pretend that I have sleeves
But I have the mystique of diamonds
The ladies love my angles and proportions
my cut, color and character
my shapely banded bottom
(not to mention my “pleasure-ribbed” cuffs)

I’m a perfect fit for the downtown retro pimp
or the golf-loving WASP accountant
Why be just another Scotch swillin’ sucka
when you could be the baddest mofo
at the Naughty Bottom Country Club?
(Money back if you don’t get laid)

Think you look hot in your Fred Rogers Cardigan?
You don’t have to be hot to look hot
Wouldn’t you rather look hot and be cool?
The cool barfly bequiles with argyle
An argyle vest and some fine Scotch liquor
will get you into the lassies’ knickers

Whose woods these are I think I know
The trees are short and plastic though
The furniture is soaked with beer
The dancing nymphs put on a show

My bartender must think it weird
To see a naked squirrel in here
Showing off his special nuts
Mounting nymphs like a mule deer

She says that I should take a break
Before I make a big mistake
She knows the squirrel is not a creep
But of this dance he can’t partake

The woods are smelly, dark and deep
But nympho-dances don’t come cheap
And I could really use some sleep
So I’ll go home and count some sheep

Am I chicken?
Are we a pair!
One of us scratching the ground,
one in mid air!
Where are the chickens?
Send in the chickens!

Don’t flip the bird
That would be rude
Don’t put the hens
in bad mood
Where are the chickens?
Send in the chickens!

They bathe in my sink
They sit in my chair
Cackling chickens are everywhere . . .
They’re in my underwear
What are they doing there?
I really don’t care
Send in the Chickens

I’m sick of these birds
I wish they’d disappear
Please take the chickens away
There’s no room for them here
Take out the chickens
They bother me, dear

A Tira-ble spill
It isn’t cake anymore
It’s tira-mi-soup

Get your grubby paws
out of her stockings, Santa
You’re not Panty Claus

Favorite Things

Camisoles, teddies and French negligee-ays
Tall sexy ladies in hot lingerie-ay
Throw in some acorns ’cause I’m the squirrel king
These are a few of my fav-o-rite things!

Spanking soft bottoms with stiff wooden spoo-oons
Rubbing girls’ pink parts in dingy saloo-oons
Bouncing fine ladies on squeaky bed springs
These are a few of my fav-o-rite things

When the Dog fights
When the Squirrel sings
When you’re feeling poor
Give me a few of my favorite things
Or I will sing some more!

Something’s gone awRye
Only a crazed fluffernut
forgets the Wonder

Internet squirrels
burrow into your browser
and eat your cookies

Man from Nantucket?
No, he’s in a limmerick
This is a haiku

Lame haiku about dangerous thugs dressed in Santa costumes:

Bad Santa posse —
Red and white and black and blue.
These guys just sleigh me!

Squirrel diddle diddle diddle Squirrel diddle ay
Squirrel diddle diddle diddle Squirrel diddle ay

Squirrelpercalifragilistisexpialidocious!
Even though the squirrel is tame
it can be quite ferocious
When it has a beer or two
it’s conduct is atrocious
Squirrelpercalifragilistisexpialidocious!

Squirrel diddle diddle diddle Squirrel diddle ay
Squirrel diddle diddle diddle Squirrel diddle ay

Because I was afraid to spank
When I was just a pup
A lady gave my crank a yank
And made my crank stand up
My crank stood up and I sat down
and sang this happy song
which uses adjectives and nouns
to describe my schlong:

Squirrelpercalifragilistisexpialidocious!
Even though the squirrel is tame
it can be quite ferocious
When it has a beer or two
it’s conduct is atrocious
Squirrelpercalifragilistisexpialidocious!

Squirrel diddle diddle diddle Squirrel diddle ay
Squirrel diddle diddle diddle Squirrel diddle ay

Give it some gas, Lance.
Wang Fu has Mata Hari.
There’s no time to waste!

Girls fancy my knees
because my knees are fancy
My knees always please

Short and gray and old and ugly
The squirrel from Ipanema goes walking
And when he passes, each one he passes goes “eeek!”

When he walks, he’s like a slow dance
He shows some knee below his short pants
And when he passes, the gas he passes goes “eeek!”

Ooh, that squirrel needs a bath badly
He has too much fur on his knees
Yes, he will scratch his ass gladly
But he knows some great nut recipes
With acorns he’s Chef Boyardee

Short and gray and old and ugly
The squirrel from Ipanema goes walking
And when he passes, each one he passes goes “eeek!”

Sonnet 13

I won’t complain if your black clothes don’t match,
Or if you spill Jolt on my new velvet cloak.
Sure as slave bracelets on fishnet will catch,
You tug love’s choke chain for this mopey bloke.
You’re jumping about in your Fat Bob jumper.
You’re shining your stompy black buckle-up boots.
Were darkness not my favorite color,
I’d have to say that you light up a room.
Your pasty face under UV light glows
Like bits of white lint on black PVC.
Your hair, like a beautiful Aquanet rose,
Is a flammable structural mystery.
When you fan love’s flames (as you always doth)
Don’t ignite your hair, little Ubergoth.

I need some warm pants to cover my ass.
An ass gets frosted up here in the trees.
I’ll be a frozen gray squirrel carcass,
Unless someone lends me their dungarees.
Make sure the pants have a hole for my tail —
A great big hole so there is no chafing.
I’ll also need pockets to hold my fan mail.
(Some spending cash would be a GREAT thing.)
Knit me a sweater, if you’d like that better.
I hate to knit-pick, but gimme some style.
Save dad’s cartigan for Art Linkletter,
’Cause I’d rather freeze than wear argyle.
Forget the clothes, just give me your money.
And I’ll snuggle up with a hot squirrel honey.

Bonnie cleaned up her inflatable room.
She rearranged all of the furniture.
None of the stuff was too heavy to move,
so Bonnie did not get a herni-er.
Experts suggested that she throw away
her blow-up chair and her blow-up armoire;
There was an imbalance in the Feng Shui
somewhere around her inflatable bar.
The air-armoire was a family heirloom
filled with inflatable Betty Page stuff.
The comfy chair was a squishy balloon
and the perfect place to park Bonnie’s duff.
Feeling deflated, she sat in her chair.
She opened the valve and let out the air.