By Shawn
O dearest woman on the flight
I took not long ago,
I have a bone to pick with you,
About two cups of joe.
Remember that late Delta flight?
They packed us like sardines,
And none of us were in the mood,
To hear your children’s screams.
Yet they both wailed and kicked the seats
Of those in front of them,
Denying weary passengers
Some needed R.E.M.
I thought that you might feel the need
To make your children cease.
Events would soon make clear to me
You don’t care in the least.
For in the midst of all their cries,
Your children screamed at you:
“More coffee, Mom! We want some now!”
Well, what’s a mom to do?
I guess if you’re a shitty mom,
You do just what you did,
And buy two cups of black cocaine
To overclock your kids.
What happened next was horrible—
You couldn’t pay me millions
To relive that and watch your kids
Both act like Robin Williams.
I think you hate the human race.
I think that must be why
You’d put your fellow human beings
Through torture in the sky.
Well, I enjoyed that trip so much–
I love when children yell.
Still, I don’t blame your kids for this,
But you can burn in hell.
Into the Friar 