Words for My Enjoyment

For a hundred cents,
a crisp clean paper,
I’d do a lot,
right now — not later.

I’d eat a bug,
I’d trip your friend,
I’d write a nasty e-mail,
and click on SEND.

I’d clip my toenails,
I’d clip yours too,
I’d eat a danish,
moldy through and through.

I’d tell a woman,
her teeth hath food,
no matter how much,
it came off rude.

I’d eat candle wax,
I’d taste bubbling mud,
I’d chew a pack of gum,
like cows chew cud.

But a hundred cents,
ain’t much it’s true,
but for ten whole bucks,
there’s more to do.

I’d steal a bike,
from a nasty tyke,
I’d beat up hoodlums,
if you’d like…

I’d run a mile,
while chugging milk,
I’d lie that my skin,
was made of silk.

I’d wear a bag,
tightly at my side,
filled with bodily fluids,
that I’d just not hide.

I’d participate,
in medical testing,
as long as the ten hard bucks,
was safely vesting.

I’d let a midget,
live in my car,
in return for his knowledge,
of driving far.

He’d be like my own GPS system,
right there for the taking,
I’d try to lessen his symptoms,
from his nighttime shaking.

But now a hundred bucks cash,
would increase my actions,
I’d get right in the middle,
of dangerous factions.

I’d yell at racists,
I’d picket during lunch,
I’d join a cult,
but definitely not drink the punch.

I’d start organizations,
with political leanings,
I’d film risque documentaries,
and present free screenings.

I’d eat things that weren’t food,
I’d drink things that weren’t drinks,
I’d eat food out of the garbage,
and out of dirty kitchen sinks.

I’d pretend I’d been abducted,
just to get some great free press,
I’d swallow brand new pennies,
or a half one — since it’s less.

I’d sell my car-living midget,
to a circus traveling by,
sure, I might feel bad but –
I’d just sit there, let him cry.

But what about a thousand,
quite a jump from nine hundred less,
let me simply be quite honest,
for a grand I’d be a mess.

I’d wear women’s clothes in public,
I’d pretend to have disease,
I’d inhale some household cleaners,
talking with a nasty wheeze.

I’d potentially give up my pinky,
for a billiards star with needs,
I’d allow a litter of puppies,
to suck the teet for feeds.

I’d get my hand stuck in a bottle,
my neck in a stairwell banister,
my foot in a deep dark mouse hole,
and my foot in a nice tight canister.

I’d eat candle wax for breakfast,
I’d drink scented shampoo for lunch,
I’d ingest some nice wax fruit bowls,
assuming it had some crunch.

But ten thousand dollars?

Quite a chunk of cash,
more than I’ve seen as of late,
but if someone would hand me that fortune,
I’d simply open the gate…

I’d give away my liver,
my kidney and stones,
I wouldn’t complain,
no cries and no moans.

I’d fill my body with tape worms,
for a diet campaign,
I’d drink hydrochloric acid,
and wince through the pain.

I’d let people I didn’t know,
squat in my living room,
I’d let children and parents,
install a huge log flume.

I’d step into a bear trap,
I’d drive my car into a lake,
I’d eat an unprepared blowfish,
just for the sake…

I’d diffuse bombs without training,
I’d operate on the spot,
I’d throw myself into dangerous situations,
yeah — that would happen a lot.

I’d let people do it TO me,
I’d let people do it again,
for ten thousand dollars,
there would be no clear end.

Sure, there’s more I’d agree to,
for my money, my stash,
hell — I’d do a lot more,
for ten thousand in cash.

But there’s one thing I wouldn’t,
ever never permit,
not even for a million –
I’d sure throw a fit.

Worse than pain in my loins,
worse than stockings with coal,
you could never ever force me,
to eat a sourdough bread bowl.

With clam chowder, that is.