A Poem by Paul Creenis: “Ok Paul. You win. Good night.”

Good night indeed, for a very tired boy, he’s played all night with his urethral toy.

There goes the lobby, dead and silent, for a phrase Paul said that might have been too violent,

But Paul, knowing he had the hope in his heart, unleashed a powerful and deadly fart,

Once that fart dispelled into the air, all the people suffered, boy did they care,

As a small boy named Pep came crashing in, he said “oh shit” and he fell in a bin,

But the small boy Pep had something to say, Paul brushed him aside and simply said “Nay”.

Crushed was Pep as he walked back home, until he found a legendary tome.

The tome at hand was a few story books, about a man name Flash and his band of Yankee crooks.

The many Yankee crooks, who had withstood battles and games, had built themselves an empire from the ashes and flames.

Flash, the leader of the bunch, always was down for a merry brunch.

Pine, the Viking of Fruit, known for his overly massive boot.

Random, the engineer, worked too hard, yet still impressed his peers.

Chile, as spicy as a jalapeno, was much more powerful than even El Nino.

The rest had not yet built up a story, but trust me, these ones will achieve glory.

The stories they told were from the beginning, from before they even started winning.

Some were very interesting, although some were too much into resting…

But as small boy Pep placed down the book, he gave Paul a big desperate look.

“I found this book, knowledge it will feed, but first you need to teach me how to read!”

Paul scoffed at the illiterate child, while that scoff turned into a laugh that was wild.

“Little boy, the one who his pants he has peed, I too, cannot even read!”

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