From here to Algonquin 2

Introduction:
Big AL the ninja had some eggplant parmesan.
Big AL the ninja was a gash hound, and like spread eagle porn.
Big AL the ninja was ripe.
Big AL the ninja sniffed his finger nails after scratching his balls and damn near fell over!
The pungent raw smell of vinegar, ammonia, dank stale cunt with a hint of vanilla just about bowled Big AL the ninja over
Big AL the ninja took a shower.
Big AL the ninja felt fresh as a daisy.
It was New York City, January 4th, 1964 Big AL the ninja had to go to work at a Chinese dry cleaner shop. That was his lot in life. The next day, the Berlin wall was completed.
They called Big AL the ninja “Flapdoodle” at the Chinese dry cleaner shop and sang a little song about him…
“You’re all pasty white
Flapdoodle
J. F. K. never wore big droopy drawer trousers
Flapdoodle
There’s a wing nut flummadiddle
Lesbo space bat
Flapdoodle
She’s got a long vanilla index finger
Flapdoodle
She’s pointing it at your chest
Flapdoodle
She’s got a scaly dry itch psoriasis elbow
Flapdoodle
You’re all pasty white
Flapdoodle
She’s got a long vanilla index finger too
Flapdoodle
Oh my goodness
Flapdoodle
J. F. K. never wore big droopy drawer trousers
Flapdoodle
She’s got a scaly dry itch psoriasis elbow
Flapdoodle
The wing nut flummadiddle
Lesbo space bat
Flapdoodle
She’s folding you an origami swan
Flapdoodle
With her long vanilla index finger
And her scaly dry itch psoriasis elbow
For you
Flapdoodle”
Later, some fat girls with lollypops came over. By then it was September 12 1974 and in Ethiopia, Emperor Haile Selassie was over thrown in a military coup.
The fat girls had lemon cakes
Licking lips
Licorice twists
And their
Sarsaparilla poop hatches roared
Sexy naked sex ensued with
Cocoa butter
And lanolin
Later, Big AL the ninja farted in July
Whilst a cool summer evenings breeze
Rustled through persimmons maples and brambles
Amongst the Midwest Magicicada Neotredecim cicadas
Croaking their song carried by the wind
Whilst winter rang its wrinkle round
That all is fine and dandy, but it is not why we are here.
One day in Cleveland, Ollie J. Farnwinkle farted in such a way as to tickle his prostate as a fetching young lass was walking by.
He pulled a boner. By boner, I would not be referring to a blooper, a blunder in any sense. Not a small and amusing mistake or an incredibly embarrassing misstep or transgression. I wouldn’t mean a boning knife, or a Trombonist. Ollie J. Farnwinkle had an erection, and his penis was in its enlarged and firm state. The corpora cavernosa that ran the length of Ollie J. Farnwinkle’s penis had become engorged with blood and he was pitching a tent.
Since Ollie J. Farnwinkle was in Cleveland he wanted to go to the Rock-n-Roll museum. He could hear Huey Lewis singing “The heart of Rock-n-Roll, heart of Rock-n-Roll is in Cleveland”
Now Ollie J. Farnwinkle decided to go back to his hotel room and call an escort. He thought about his life and all he had.
He had a wife and two kids
He had a blue Mazda
He had a corned beef on pumpernickel
And some cheesy elbow macaroni for lunch
He had a 34 inch waist
He had red BVDs
He had an ingrown toenail
He had a good idea
Of who was banging his wife on Tuesdays
And sometimes Thursdays
He had a Rolex Perpetual Air-King
Self-winding waterproof watch
He had a Frank Zappa CD in the car
He had a tendency to pandiculate in public
He had to take a leak
He had a slight headache
He had a slight boner
He had opened up a Pandora’s box and mawed her musky mound
as she moaned and mewed like a puss warm in its fine contentment
He had a couple or twenties and some change
He had long sideburns
He had a bromide
He had a wife and two kids
fin

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