there was a girl.
Let us call her Rebooka.
When she was 3, her parents took her out to a nice restaurant for lunch.
Being the precocious young girl that she was,
she asked for a sip of her mother’s red wine.
Not seeing the harm in one little sip,
her mother obliged, and granted her daughter that small taste.
With a new found sense of confidence and abandon, Rabooka stood atop her table in the crowded restaurant,
and, at the top of my,
I mean her,
her lungs,
she sang,
“Mary had a little shit!”
And then, she promptly threw up all over the table.
And then she pondered weak and weary,
or something like that.
The End.