Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Dead Raccoon

Raphael. aawwwww.

Dead Raccoon

I found you on the side of the road
Your stiff paws were in the air.
But you looked so cute and fluffy
With a sexy stripey flair.

I took you to the taxidermist shop
The one across the street.
He took out your guts and stuffed you with fluff
And cleaned your wittle feet.

I placed you on my coffee table
The one beside my bed.
I named you Raphael
Cause you didn’t look like a Ted.

You always listen to me
Like no one else seems to do.
You don’t have emotional problems.
You don’t have commitment issues.

You never leave me sobbing
or say, “its not you, its me.”
You never leave the seat up
Or spray it with your pee.

You don’t tell people you’re single
And chat with strange women on the net.
And you might not have much money
But at least you aren’t in debt.

You’d never lie or cheat on me
You think more of me than that.
You’d never say you “could do better
Or that I am too fat.

You’d never fart in front of me
Or leave my car windows down.
You don’t make me repeat things
Or keep turning up the sound.

I don’t have to do your laundry
Or fold your boxer briefs.
You don’t make demands or promises
That you know you will not keep.

I know some people won’t understand
They’ll think I’ve lost my mind.
To see us on vacations
Like I’d leave you behind.

To those of you who think we’re sick
And those I don’t amuse,
I say feck off, and kiss my ass
And Raphael’s furry one too.

And though our story just begins,
This poem I must end.
Raphael the Dead Raccoon
You are my bestest friend.