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NARRATOR: Today's poem..."Dairy Maid, Monster Suckler."
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| Down the street, and up the block...near the solid waste processing plant...lives a little girl named Dairy Maid...who smells like Cary Grant. | |
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| Her dreams are filled with bovine love...of cows in torrid, tongue-swept smooches...swapping cud with swarthy farmers...'midst droppings left by bitter pooches. | |
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NARRATOR: I get to do a verse in the next panel...
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| And when the sun bursts through the clouds...and shines its rays upon her hump...then Dairy Maid jumps up and down...upon the corpse of Forrest Gump. | |
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| The bloody corpse of Forrest Gump...the rotting, oozing, rancid corpse...that Dairy Maid shines heat lamps on...until it shrivels, pops, and warps. | |
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NARRATOR: (ahem) But as the cows in lip-lock swoon...their teats unmilked, as passion mounts...she dreams of Carrot Top's "equipment"...on which she'd like to jump and pounce.
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| Milk, and cheese, and chicken eggs...Milton Berle, and Seth Green's legs...the smell of Raymond Burr's behind...go swirling through her fevered mind. | |
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| And now the farmers and the cows...have mutant children in their lust...which Dairy Maid will volunteer...to suckle with her ample bust. | |
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