Projectile Plug

Yeah…

Ain’t nobody ready for this one…

Poor Mr. Whiskers…

Friday night, Taco Bell feast,

Hot sauce drippin’, woke the beast,

Room smelled bad like a bio attack,

Cat look nervous in the corner by the rack.

Walked real funny, cheeks clenched tight,

Shoulda known things weren’t goin’ right,

Tried to cough, then I felt that thud,

Like a champagne cork dipped in mud.

Then the pressure hit critical mass,

Sounded like thunder from my ass,

Time slowed down, I screamed “OH SNAP!”

That plug went airborne off the bathroom mat.

I farted out a butt plug across the room,

Sent that poor cat straight into doom,

Bounced off the TV, hit the ceiling fan,

Grandma walked in like “I don’t understand…”

Mr. Whiskers hissed and ran outside,

Neighbors called the cops from the sound of the slide,

Never thought my Friday night would end like that,

Weaponized cheeks versus the family cat.

Forensics team couldn’t find the clue,

Just a trail of Febreze and Mountain Dew,

Cat came back with a thousand-yard stare,

Won’t even walk near the recliner chair.

Vet said “Son, what exactly occurred?”

I just sat silent, too ashamed for words,

Plug left a dent in the drywall too,

Now there’s a chalk outline by the shoe rack too.

RIP to the peace in this home,

That plug achieved Mach speed on its own,

Dad just sighed and grabbed a beer,

Said “That’s the worst thing I’ve seen all year.”

I farted out a butt plug across the room,

Turned the living room into certain doom,

Cat did a backflip, lamp fell down,

Whole trailer shook outside the town.

Now the family don’t invite me back,

Got banned from Chili’s after the attack,

One wrong toot and your life goes flat…

Never underestimate tactical gas.

Mr. Whiskers still ain’t forgave me…

And honestly…

I don’t blame him.