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A Sticky End
help
....and so it begins
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But first of all, he could not stall; a lavvy he must find
And preferably with paper, to wipe his large behind.
He knew of places he could go, but none were very secret
but he found one stocked with rocks and even with a free jet.
And in that jet was a toilet, where relief might well be found
(If only it was not ten thousand feet above the ground)
At such a height, it should be known, one's flatus is explosive
And any fallout that ensues is strangely quite erosive
But he didn't care if he caused any natural disasters
He thought they could be fixed with a mix of gauze and plasters
And also he'd forgotten a vital law of motion
Of Isaac Newton's axioms he simply had no notion.
So from a hidden pocket, he took a golf umbrella,
And he stuck it into a giant bowl of jella
He added creams to it, namely whipped and shaving
To most he must sound mad indeed, not to say raving.
And furthermore he added, from inside his secret bag,
A glitter-covered g-string and a dirty, oily rag.
He ate up the concoction with a loud and loathsome gulp
Like that emitted by a frog as it's squashed to a pulp.
And then, from out his innards came a most unusual sound
Something like an ice-cream van, doing its summer round
He thought, "that's strange, for beans I did not eat,"
"And what might this miasma be, now creeping round my seat?"
'Twas far too late, for vengeful Fate gave him what he deserved:
As the implications struck him, he was terribly unnerved
But would not yield so grabbed his shield and sallied forth to fight
But as he proceeded, his left leg didn't feel quite right
He then came notice a fissure near his thigh
He then came notice a fissure near his thigh
Several inches long, and a centimetre high
From out the cleft there trickled forth a dark and noisome issue
Which was left unstaunched although he used many a Kleenex tissue
The trickling liquid oozed and spread and noxious fumes arose
Which grabbed him by the throat, then crept right up his nose
His lungs were filled with poison gas
Then he spotted a buxom young lass
(allow me to join - thus preserving rhythm)
With lungs full filled with gas he then espied yon spotted lass
'Get me oxygen!' cried he 'And I will let you pass'
Three months later - help arrived but all was quiet and dead

Corpse'd bin laden on the ground the feet due west of head.

The End

Thank you Chalky!
Audience
shouts, screams, generally goes wild for Raak
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