The CONTRACTOR, oh, where should I begin?
Blueblocker shades? The beard used as a chin?
The seven inches of expos-ed chest?
The hopeful-hopeless comb-over (the best!)?
So many points there on that tasteless chart
That pointed to a sad and wounded heart:
"That fuckin' bitch," he said with great ado,
"If I see her, I tell you what I do."
He ne'er finished that thought, got too choked up.
"Fuckin' slut. Fuckin', goddamned whore, coked up
Ev'ry day and then, what? She gets it all.
She's laughin' now, yeah, shoppin' at the mall
On my motherfucking Roosevelt dime."
Oh, love's a cliff! The meek, they dare not climb!
"I'll show her, though," he said it more than twice,
"The sun, the sand, the girls. Shit, this sounds nice."
He planned on making cash with swimming pools,
"A great biz: take your time and milk the fools.
'I'm sorry, lady, hit shallow bedrock.
You want it quick, you can just suck my cock.'"
Where was he from? Westchester? Manhattan?
No, sir, from that island they named Staten.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]