I just ate four roast beef burgers.
Now I’m brewing a monster gurgler.

I can feel it stewing in my gut.
Longing for release from my butt.

It sits and waits, sickly marinates.
In the dark depths of my rear crate.

Deep in the bowels, locker of Jones Davies.
Swishing amongst foul fecal gravies…

For hours it remains, gaining power.
Morphing into a swampy chowder.

Some time hence forth, it will birth.
Scaring all who live on Earth.

I foretell this being my shitty demise.
Torn asunder, no witnessing cries.

An extinction event, like the dinosaur.
My rectum will be bruised and sore.

The planet, ruined, will never be the same.
Thankfully I’ll be dead and without shame.

When that doom comes, when it arrives…
Mankind will wish they weren’t alive.