It's three a.m. on a Saturday night,
Just a couple of hours til dawn's first light,
I feel her warm body, close next to mine,
Caress her lithe body, taste lips of wine.
Give me my pillow, you lechorous fool,
What's that on your mouth? It looks like some drool,
I really do think, that soon you'll be die'in,
If you don't stop muttering, I love you Meg Ryan.
Get your butt out of bed, get to the store,
Let's see your tail end, head right out the door,
And bring back some milk, so when kids awake,
Of Fruit Loops and Wheaties, they can partake.
I get in the car, and head down the street,
I'm still half asleep, and in stocking feet,
I get to the store, head down the first aisle,
Wishing was home, in my warm domicile.
Then by the produce, I happen to spy,
A beautiful goddess, thought I would cry,
O' what a vision, a Helen of Troy,
O' my dear God, I think it's a boy!
Scurrying past, I walk by the bread,
There's an old wino, I hope he's not dead,
Then by the pastries, chocolate delights,
Mother of Mary, two hermaphrodites.
Running by now, smack into a cart,
Pushed by young boy, Cowabunga, it's Bart,
I land on his twinkies, let out a scream,
For there goes Herb Alpert, buying whipped cream.
I get to my feet, take off on a run,
Whiz right by Elvis, seranading a nun,
Price check on three, I hear from above,
As dead ahead, there stands Courtney Love.
Then at the milk, grab a gallon or two,
I really do need, to escape from this zoo,
Head for the checkout, and then out the door,
Once in the car, gas pedal I floor.
I get to the house, the milk's put away,
I head back to bed, and what can I say,
I snuggle up cozy, then in my head,
Sweet dreams of Meg Ryan, all snug in my bed.
[This message has been edited by Mike (edited 01-05-2000).]