This is the rough draft of a poem I started early this morning.
Give the Uzi back to Stan so he can safely go backpack through the peaks of Pakistan, searching for strange and many a wonderful pet, things our customers are unlikely to forget. But knowing him from previous trips, and how his brain has been known for its “skips” like that trip one time, he wound where? We found him crashed in a pub of Tashkent in The Republic of Uzbekistan, singing on and on cheery bar songs about Norm and Cliff and confused them with hiking trips he had taken in his youth near the French Normandy cliffs.
And if he loses his visa, and has to pay, that might not teach him a lesson or it possibly may.
And if he gets lost in Turkmenistan, then send again in our Armenian men from the home office of Turkey to find Stan our man, and remind him again to stick to his agenda: ‘Find Exotics For Us Plan', please Stan.
But don’t be surprised if he gets lost again, and if Stan’s ‘mental compass’ fails in a forest, and there's no one there to hear our man, when he fails, when he falls or even if he calls, will there be a hero for our Stan man?
And if Stan again gets another dog in Afghanistan, smuggled in from the East of Iran from a clandestine not-so-sure he’s was such a reputable man, who tells our Stan, “Oh, you’re a big canine fan, and Poochie is the finest Afgan best-friend-of-man”, and he hounds Stan until he not only buys just one pooch Afgan (that's really a French poodle with big aft gams) that strangely resembles a wooly on-steroids baby lamb, (baa-ark!), but the seller misunderstood the Stan order as “Okay, nine is fine” and then suddenly everyone hears our German friend Stan the Shepard arrive on the unloading dock with a flock of dog-sheep-dogs, just please, just please don’t have any one back at the exotic pet store roar, “oh, man, oh, man, he’s flocked up again!” as that will just confuse and anger many a man, and especially the Sultan, the top guy on that eastern tip of Arabia, known as Oman.
And if he loses his visa, and has to pay, that might not teach him a lesson or it possibly may.
And if he gets lost in Turkmenistan, then send again in our Armenian men from the home office of Turkey to find Stan our man, and remind him again to stick to his agenda: ‘Find Exotics For Us Plan', please Stan.
But don’t be surprised if he gets lost again, and if Stan’s ‘mental compass’ fails in a forest, and there's no one there to hear our man, when he fails, when he falls or even if he calls, will there be a hero for our Stan man?
And if Stan again gets another dog in Afghanistan, smuggled in from the East of Iran from a clandestine not-so-sure he’s was such a reputable man, who tells our Stan, “Oh, you’re a big canine fan, and Poochie is the finest Afgan best-friend-of-man”, and he hounds Stan until he not only buys just one pooch Afgan (that's really a French poodle with big aft gams) that strangely resembles a wooly on-steroids baby lamb, (baa-ark!), but the seller misunderstood the Stan order as “Okay, nine is fine” and then suddenly everyone hears our German friend Stan the Shepard arrive on the unloading dock with a flock of dog-sheep-dogs, just please, just please don’t have any one back at the exotic pet store roar, “oh, man, oh, man, he’s flocked up again!” as that will just confuse and anger many a man, and especially the Sultan, the top guy on that eastern tip of Arabia, known as Oman.
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