Twas a night up at Jarod's,
and you can be sure,
that Wayne's in the bathroom,
and he's locked the door.
While I watching T.V.,
and Jarod on the bed,
we both started to wonder
if Wayne might be dead.
"He's been in the john
for an awful long time,"
I said, but Jarod
couldn' t think of a rhyme.
"Maybe we should check
on our stinky young friend!"
We knocked on the door
and he said, "don't come in!"
When what do we spy
on the hallway floor,
but a big soaking puddle
coming under the door.
I wondered what he ate
and these words I spake,
"Wayne, it's time to review
your fiber intake."
"It may not be necessary
to eat a log every day,
and that old Metamucil
you should've thrown away."
"Shut up and get a plunger,"
my angry friend said,
"I've clogged up the toilet,
the water's over my head!"
No time for a plunger
I grabbed a hammer of Chuck's,
and with one mighty swing,
I busted the locks.
Water flowed down the hallway
and over the stairs,
and there sat Wayne
with his butt in the air.
"You flooded my bathroom again!"
Jarod screamed,
"Get a mop and a bucket,
cause you're gonna clean!"
And eight hours later,
the hall looked like new,
and Wayne, pale and haggard,
was finally through.
We made him a sandwich,
and fed him some cheese,
Then he asked Jarod,
"Can I use the bathroom, please?"
"No! Hell no,
Don't you even start!"
"It's okay," said Wayne,
"I just have to fart."
We knew that would be
almost certain doom,
and Jarod and I
fled from the room.
There was a great explosion
when he let it out.
He blew all the windows
and brought down the house.
We realized his farts
were worse than his poops.
As he surveyed the rubble,
He said only, "Oops."
"The blast threw me clear,
that's why I'm not dead,
and I flew out the window,
'fore the roof hit my head."
When Chuck came home
later that week
he said, "Jesus, God Wayne!
What the hell did you eat?!"
