I Have Come To Soil Thine Toiletries



by Tom Adams



MARATHON GAS STATION (I80) - Weary am I and long have I traveled to thee, Tradesman of all things that smolder betwixt thine lips and Keeper of the Rasp towixt mine quest hath journeyed me. “Whence, now, bear ye thy hand in thine pants” say ye. As dost thine bobbish body lie betwixt the skies and those that dwell therein and the depths of the oceans and those that dwell therein, so upon my honor dost say I unto thee, I have come to soil thine toiletries.



Look not upon me now with brow turned down, O doughty costermonger. ‘Tis no loss unto thee that the passing of ducats for petrol take place not upon my arrival. ‘Tis plain that for mine quest mote I not have chanced upon thy fair petrol shoppe. Wouldst thee have reason to think me caddish then? Nay, deliver unto me the rasp for which I seek.



Alas I hath nothing to exchange for thy wittles. Harden not thy heart as mine bladder may burst asunder this very minute. Wilt thou not stand high and deliver unto me the rasp for which I seek? Let me go hither to the place of expulsion, for I fain will tell thee I bear not the boon thou askest me but paine beneath mine pants. Upon mine very soul, what hath thee better to do? What law dost deign thee not deliver thine rasp except to the procurer of petrol? I say unto thee that this law be not God’s Law, nor can I make it mine own. Hath I possessed the ducats to sip upon the milk of thine kine or sup upon thine wittles I would surely surrender them to thee. Speak now and pray show unto me that thine might of mind mote such answer bring as mine bladder dost seek.



Zounds! Wilt thou then gaze without caring upon me in mine unceasing paine? Alas, I doth peed upon mine pants. Fie! Fie upon thee and thy petrol shoppe! Ne’er againe shalt I journey to thy fluey gaole.