Kat and I received an elegant invitation
Which at first caused a bit of agitation
Come one, come all
To a Halloween Ball
With costumes sparked by your imagination
Crowded events are not usually high on our list
But attending this affair would help family coexist
Yet making a costume
Makes both of us fume
And as time slipped away the more we got pissed
Perfect costumes aren’t just a matter of choice
They need to speak loudly without using a voice
Speaking, “It’s you!”
Replying, “So true”
And if it does not you will never rejoice
The day of the ball was drawing here quickly
In the pit of our stomachs we felt rather sickly
To get rid of the hex
We had rousing sex
And our costume ideas came rather slickly
I’d go as a penis and she as a pussy
Mine would be stiff and hers rather juicy
She’d touch my knob
I’d start to throb
And we’d dance to the music all loosely-goosey
But what would this do to the family affair?
Some grieving, some leaving, some pulling of hair
Or would they just giggle
When we start to wiggle
Till dear Aunty Fannie plopped out of her chair
Would each of our relatives think us quite rude?
Or would our costume choice cause a family feud?
Or would kith and kin
Succumb to our sin
And strip off their piety with a new attitude?
Would Andy and Randi admit they were gay?
Or would all shout at once with something to say?
Would old folks’ pop pills,
And mothers’ get chills
While drinkin’ and thinkin’ and wantin’ to play?
Could Uncle Sylvester calm Aunt Abigail
Before callin’ the cops for our ride to the jail?
And will cousin Gerty
Keep callin’ us “dirty”
While rubbin’ her crotch on a wrought iron rail?
Will we see all the young men soon start to squirm
While thinking of girls and ways to shoot sperm?
Bulging in pants
For secret romance
Then quick on the trigger, not lasting full-term
But what if our choice causes more than a stir?
Blown out of proportion, all actions a blur
To Grandma a shock
At the costumed cock
While Grandpa keeps strokin’ the fake pussy fur
Maybe our choice of costumes is a bit hasty
Perhaps we need to consider something less tasty
We need to think
So give us a drink
And keep them coming till we’re shit-faced and pasty
No super-heroes and no kids’ fairytales
No clowns or gowns with bloody entrails
No Keystone cops
No preg-o that pops
And no banshee bitch that wickedly wails
No preacher, no teacher, no G.I. olive drab
No horned headed opera singer with lots of flab
I won’t be a boxer
Kat’s not a bobby socks-er
Nor will she be a specimen in a mad scientist’s lab
We think and we ponder perplexed and forlorn
We grumble quite grouchy all tattered and torn
Both of us yell
This is Halloween hell!
Screw the ball; Kat grab the camcorder, let’s fuck and make porn