Slippery Goth

I walked to the office this morning in the ice
no wait, that should be stumbled, to be more precise.
As my breath turned to steam and floated up high,
I caught what I thought, out the corner of my eye
an elephant lost and drenched in sweat,
then my nostrils caught the burn of a cigarette,
twas then I realised it was an overweight female
breathing with effort and skin very pale.
A girl with jet hair and lipstick bright red,
a melancholy look, possibly misled, or dead.
The tattoo of a crucifix caressing her neck,
think Batman and Dracula with a little bit of Shrek.
A bodice, thigh high boots and a PVC outfit
how the hell did she manage to get it to fit.
I decided to negotiate my way around this obstruction,
this hideous, outrageous, walking destruction,
but she waddled and laboured all over the place
and lacked a more conventional feminine grace.
There was really only one thing I could do
and time was getting on so without thinking it through
I ran straight towards her and threw my arms round her girth
and dragged her vast bulk which crashed down to the earth,
the sound was immense as she hit the floor with a thud,
an almighty crunch was then followed by blood.
I rolled off her back and had to think quickly
because the damage to her face was actually quite sickly.
“I’m sorry, I slipped” I said, which sounded very unconvincing
and as I lay beside her, feeling uncomfortable at her wincing
she dipped into her handbag and pulled something out
a mirror, which she used to examine her snout
and after some pouting and some close up inspection
she turned to me and grabbed me with passionate affection
and French kissed me for ages then pulled away and said
“Thanks mate, now I really do look like I’m dead”

I mean, what the F**K was that all about eh?

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