Ode to de Blue Potato Chip

Oh my blue chip, why are you so sad?
Did you slap your mother or murder your dad?
It's a sad fact that that fat cat slept with your sisters,
but you shouldn't have beat him 'til you got baseball bat blisters.

Screw it, who am I to talk?
All I did was stand there and gawk.
Now they're all outlined in chalk,
because you didn't balk.

Now why is it that the purple moon is so cool,
when mac the knife is a fool?
Let's go play on my stool,
in a pile of your stool.

Mmm, stoooool. Your bedroom's a stinkfest,
Sometimes the rhymes flow best when you think less.
The Grolsch in my belly feels heavy, then foo' drink less.
I think I may puke, like when I listen to John Tesh.

That may have been the most wicked hurl in history.
What I ate for dinner is no longer a mystery.
Well, all except for that pink thing that's blistery.
Sometimes this rhyme's a little tongue-twistery.

I'm sittin' on a hillside picking your ass,
There's a whole lot of dirt and a little bit of grass.
Dr. Potato Head says this dementia will pass,
so I'm not permanently sick, just a little bit crass.

-Random-