The Crime

My wife will probably kill me.
Mother Mary is glaring down at me with rage.
I hope my two kids don’t find out.
Should I really be with a girl this age?

He’s nice but he’s kind of a bore,
Not really worth the label of whore
But hey, I say, what’s more is more,
Just like those guys on Jersey Shore

She’s pretty in that miniskirt,
ThoJesuss wouldn’t agree.
Her legs are quite firm and fine
Though I still think I should flee.

He’s a stiff old man, the kind who likes hugs
The kind who would cower at the sight of two thugs
He tells me he’s never seen MTV and I shrug
He’ll be all right with a couple of drugs.

She’s a kid in her prime,
Like Cain and Abel in youth.
The clock’s about to chime,
A good ten hours past noon.

It’s nearly time, and then I’ll be free
Within his head and his hands and his knee
But first I must vomit so he won’t see
What I have to go through to look like Angelina Jolie

God’s still looking down at me
At this hotel bed and its disgusting sheets
The grimy window with its grimy sheer
I know in the morning, I’ll be beat.

He’s in pain, I can tell, I’m sure The Situation wouldn’t mind
He’s trying to convince himself he’s divine
I hope the cops don’t come, because of what they might find
But I’ll be eighteen next month, so it’ll probably be fine.

I admit it’s been great
Despite any past regrets
I just hope that tomorrow as I’m drinking my slurpee
I don’t realize I’ve contracted genital herpes.

I feel happy because I’m made him live
I’ve made him feel like a guy from Cribs
And I know myself I’ve got everything to give
But maybe I should’ve told him I’m HIV positive.