There are no clams in my clam chowder.
There’s no coffee in my sac.
The Parmesan Cheese disappeared in a sneeze.
There’s no gray paint left in the can.
Nor any toothpaste in the tube.
My closet is full with a bunch of my clothes, but they don’t fit over my tummy.
I’m all all out of underwear but, that’s no surprise.
Hellman’s went bad last week.
The Lactaid went south and the spinach is weeping.
Heinz has left town.
And, so has the Dijon.
What’s a decent hot dog to do today?
The seltzer is flat. The ice cream went splat. And, the fork ran away with the spoon.
Now, it looks like my pen is almost out of ink. And, this is my last sheet.
Don’t you think it’s about time for a sexy tomato to come my way? Or, even a kumquat would do.
There must be love somewhere out there .
Or, maybe not now, you know.
The postman did leave a note. I think it was a love letter but, it wasn’t addressed to me.
I know this sounds like a suicide note but, to be truthful I just have to pee.