I know where we’re going
It’s cold and it is snowing
Traffic’s at a crawl
We’re headed for the mall
I need deodorant and paper towels
Mindy needs something to crank up her bowels
It’s been a week and like the Bee Gees sang “She’s goin’ nowhere.”
I say it just ain’t fair
Just because we’re in our 70s we ought to still be able to poop on demand
Instead we have to take Miralax and other stuff to give us a helping hand
Well maybe “helping hand” isn’t the best way of putting it
But it’s more tasteful than saying “help us take a shit”
Oh my God: now I’ve said “tasteful” in connection with pooping
Now it’s likely the police will come around snooping
When they come to my door I’ll raise my hands in the air
“See: they are clean and I’m wearing my own underwear.”
Suddenly, the car is spinning in the snow out of control
We flip over after hitting a huge pothole
Suddenly, Mindy has started to go
Back to back accidents, wouldn’t you know?
The car was totaled for more reasons than one
And Mindy and I have decided to move somewhere where there’s always sun