Cold Eating


She looked around: she was all alone.

Again the buzz came from her phone.

She slipped it out of her pantsuit pocket

And thumbed the password to unlock it.

Her smile grew broader as her eyes grew smaller,

Squinting at the words which read “Unknown caller”.

“You like?” then appeared on the little screen.

“Good job!” she typed back, but then in between

Her words came the buzz that meant more was next

So she sent her praise, then up popped the text:

“Needing more? Like now on YouTube maybe?

Got plenty of him with redhot baby!

But disappointment! Though he taller

Got hands much bigger, but other much smaller!”

“Not yet,” she sent back. “World see him banging?”

“Not yet,” she sent back. “Rather keep him hanging.

It’s fun to watch those desperate eyes,

Those waving hands, those grasped-at lies!”

“Our thought,” words came, “with yours like one:

We think that slow and long more fun!

That unlike him by whore report—

Like other part, he come too short.”

“Ha ha!” she wrote, “let’s hope that’s true

For what we want him now to do.”

She checked the date. “He’s now got nine

Days, then the tenth, make him resign.”

“What like? Got stuff that show his winkle

And what he do when ladies tinkle.”

“Your choice,” she typed, “but nail that boob!”

“Oh boys!” came back, “Look out, YouTube!”

She laughed. Then frowned, now all attention.

There was one thing they’d never mention.

She wrote, “Great work! What do I owe?”

The answer came: “We let you know.”


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