Down in Sh*tville
Liked fitness a lot...
But the Binge,
Who lived just North of Sh*t-ville,
Did NOT!
The Binge hated fitness! Hated it worse than Gigli.
He just wanted folks to relax and eat pigily.
It could be that he just never learned to eat right,
Or that he sat on the couch and watched TV all night.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his pants were two sizes too small.
But,
Whatever the reason,
TV or tight pants,
There he was every Fit-Mas, his same hateful stance.
Staring down at the Sh*ts with a sour, Binge-y grimace,
At the active people working to unthicken their thickness.
For he knew every Sh*t down in the area down yon,
Was busy now getting their exercise on.
“And they’re doing their lunges!” he snarled with a sneer.
And watched all the lunging while swilling a beer.
Then he growled, with ranch dressing all over his chin,
“I MUST find a way to stop Fit-Mas, my friend.”
For, tomorrow, he knew...
...All the Sh*ts on the streets.
Would wake up bright and early. They’d down healthy eats!
And then! Oh, the tweets! Oh, the tweets! Tweets! Tweets! Tweets!
That’s one thing he hated! The TWEETS! TWEETS! TWEETS! TWEETS!
Then the Sh*ts, young and old, would head out for a jog.
And they’d blog! And they’d blog!
And they’d BLOG! BLOG! BLOG! BLOG!
They would blog with their run-times, and how they were feeling,
Which sent the Binge’s blood pressure up to the ceiling.
And THEN
They’d do something he liked least of all!
Every Sh*t down in Sh*t-ville, the big and the small,
Would all get together, no matter how fat.
They’d log onto their computers and they would all chat.
They’d yak! And they’d chat!
AND they’d CHAT! CHAT! CHAT! CHAT!
And the more the Binge thought of this healthy life chat,
The more the Binge thought, “I must stop this crap, stat!”
“Why for many a year I've put up with this brutal sh*t.
How to stop Fit-Mas from coming?
I’ll just Google it!”
There he got an idea!
An awful idea!
THE BINGE
GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"”I know just what to do!” he said grabbing some bacon.
And he put on a fancy chef hat and an apron.
And he chuckled, and clucked, got his skillet well greased .
“No Sh*t can resist a big Binge-y feast!”
“All I need is some hash browns...”
The Binge checked for taters.
And fried them up nice with some peppery flavors.
Was that enough for the old Binge...?
No! The Bingle simply smiled,
“No one can resist homemade biscuits, child.”
So he whomped up some biscuits, then got some eggs fryin’.
No one could resist the food he’d be supplyin’.
THEN
He piled on his dishes,
Loading bowl after bowl.
He wanted to tempt
Every last Sh*tville soul.
Then the Binge said, “Let’s roll!”
With his sleigh full of yummies.
And he headed to on down
To feed food to the dummies.
The Binge entered town, a big clumsy drunk dude.
With a mind fulla malice and a bag fulla junk food.
When he came to the first house there in the town.
“This is stop one,” The Bingey Chef said with a frown.
And he threw his beer can down on the ground.
Then he entered the house, and in a move most unethical,
Went to the pantry and stole every vegetable.
Potatoes! And bok choy! Radishes! Kale!
Carrot sticks! Watercress! Turnips, as well!
“Let’s get rid of this stuff,” he said with a slow drawl.
And stuffed the whole mess down the disposal.
Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Sh*t’s fruit!
The apples. Oranges. The gnarled ginger root.
He cleaned out that icebox being oh-so stealthy
And replaced all the foods with stuff most unhealthy!
He dropped off some Pop-Tarts.
He left marshmallow fluff.
Pre-packaged lunchmeat.
And other bad stuff.
And the one healthy speck
That the Binge left for grazin’
Was a piece of a part of an old cruddy raisin.
Then
The Binge went and
He did the same switchin’s
Leaving crap
Way unhealthy
In other Sh*t’s kitchens.
It was quarter past dawn,
The very start of the day
With the Sh*ts still asleep,
When he set up his buffet.
Loaded it up with omelets!
And sausage! And cornflakes!
And gravy! And waffles!
And cream cheese! And corncakes!
He loaded the tables with dishes overflowing,
And smiled as he thought of waistlines a’growing.
“Pooh-pooh to the Sh*ts” he was binge-ish-ly grinning.
This banquet I’m throwing is just the beginning.
By lunchtime, they’ll be full up to their chin,
And then I’ll serve up more goodies again.
Then all the Sh*ts down in Sh*t-ville will all DIVE RIGHT IN!”
“That's a sight,” grinned the Binge, "
That must be observed.”
So he paused, the Binge there by the food that he served.
But something was goin’ on that was kinda confusing.
The Sh*ts weren’t hurrying over after their snoozing.
Why, they paid no attention.
There was no rush to the feast!
He’d provided every temptation,
And they couldn’t care in the least.
He’d offered up calories there by the bazillions,
And couldn’t entice these hardcore Sh*t-villians!
The Binge popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Sh*t down in Sh*t-ville, the fat and petite,
Were limbering up for a jog down the street.
He HADN'T stopped Fit-Mas from coming!
IT’S HERE!
The Binge stood there frowning and sipping his beer.
He watched them run by, his apron still splattered with grease.
“They didn’t want my crumbcake, not even a piece!
They passed up my hash browns! Said no to French toast.
Didn’t want my eggs benedict served on pot roast!”
And he puzzled three hours, `till his feast had gone cold.
‘Til in the Binge’s head, a thought finally took hold.
Then the Binge had a idea,
"Maybe Fit-Mas," he said. "Doesn't come from a meal.
Maybe Fit-Mas... perhaps... is a much bigger deal!”
And what happened then...?
Well, some like to admit,
That the Binge’s tight pants
Made him want to get fit.
And the minute he started on down the right road,
He felt a tremendous lightening of his own heavy load.
So he threw out the food!
All that unhealthy schlock!
And he...
...HE HIMSELF...!
The Binge jogged ‘round the block!
