Pardon His F-ing Language. The Devil Makes Him F-ing Do It.

His wife has noticed that since the Republican primary,
her retired minister husband’s language has
dropped through, as he would say,
the f-ing, s-hole of decency.
She has been tolerant but raises
an eyebrow when at the TV,
he over and over does swear,
“The p-ant (p)-resident and those SOB, kiss-up, kiss-a,
f-ing Republicans just don’t care.”
And so with soap bar in hand, she asks,
“Have you had your mouth washed out in the past?”
He shouts, “Yes, my bloody mother did that GD task last!”
“Well, it’s obvious, the effects have
worn off since then,” she states,
and asks if he would prefer Dial or Dove to taste.
It’s then he pulls out the alcoholic’s old promise and excuse,
“I swear, GD-it, tomorrow I’ll f-ing quit,” hoping to schmooze,
but she knows that the next day
come what Republican BS may,
refraining from swearing is a wager he will always f-ing lose.

2 thoughts on “Pardon His F-ing Language. The Devil Makes Him F-ing Do It.

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