He tended to overreact,
the truth to overly compact.
When he was touched, to be exact,
he swore that he’d been soundly whacked.
When his employer surveyed his work
and claimed that he was prone to shirk
his labors, he was known to smirk
and say his boss was just a jerk.
He was, in short, a royal mess,
much given to his own duress.
A cavity, I must confess,
in his words became an abscess.
Often, truth he would imbue,
and he was rumored to pursue
wages that were not his due,
threatening that he’d surely sue.
His fellow workers made a pact
to somehow get this fellow sacked.
Their plot was detailed and exact.
They wanted no more of his act.
Surely, revenge was overdue.
He hid out in the john, they knew,
so as the jerk approached the loo,
they primed the seat with Super Glue.
It’s true, they heard his sounds of stress
coming from that small recess
where he had chosen to undress
in order that he then might press
His ample bottom to the seat
of his favorite retreat.
They heard his loud resounding bleat,
the pounding of his booted feet
upon the metal, well-locked stall,
his futile poundings on the wall,
but they heeded not his call.
Did he distress them? Not at all.
Much later, he was seen to pass,
a ring attached to his bare ass.
The doctor must have thought it crass.
So did the pretty little lass
who was his nurse, who’d often guessed
he imagined her in states undressed
as she passed this macho pest;
and, if you cannot guess the rest:
as she raised the needle, gleefully aimed
at ample butt, so red and maimed
and yet so elegantly framed,
she gave witness as the beast was tamed—
and the frequent shamer was finally shamed.
The prompt words today are smirk, compact, duress and pursue. Here are the links to the bogs that gave them: (Disclaimer: The photo above was used for illustrative purposes only. The man photographed is actually the opposite of a jerk.)