“Mini Me”

Each Morn in the Dungeon it Always greets Me,
this Plastered Monster – My own “Mini Me.”
Unfortunately this Was no Sexual Spree,
but Project she Did for her Master’s Degree.

I did not Ask – just Did what was Told,
no way could I Know was ‘Bout to Unfold.
First bought the Vaseline – numerous Jars,
the Clerk at the Store thought we Were from Mars.

Next came the Plaster and Miles of White Mesh,
like Where was my Sanity – anyone’s Guess?
Then sat In a Chair – Shorts only Protection,
then Covered me over with Not much Affection.

Took almost a Week to Wash the goop Out,
and Many a Mornings I’d just Scream and Shout.
Would do it Again – a Big Fat “No Way,”
but Grade that she Got a Well Deserved “A.”

So now It sits Lonely in that Rocking Chair,
and like Scary Monsters is Losing its Hair.
It’s falling Apart – its Arm has a Tear,
but like “Mini Me” – I’m no Worse for Wear.

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