To Serve Man. Spike/Wesley/Angel. 15
Another silly poem
To Serve Man
In L.A. , one Thanksgiving, Spike had this super plan, When leafing through that charming book entitled “To Serve Man”. Poor Wes suspected nothing; to stun him wasn’t hard. He woke up on a roasting tray, trussed-up and rubbed with lard.
Stark naked, save a garnished knob (which Spike thought rather sweet) And those funny things like chef’s hats that they put on turkeys’ feet. A crunchy apple filled his mouth, and muffled angry shouts, At Spike’s gleeful suggestion of a place to shove the sprouts.
“Well, what d’ya think?” Spike asked his sire, of his Thanksgiving treat. “Needs stuffing.” chuckled Angel “ And I do like tender meat!” “You’d best get out your giblets, then.” grinned Spike. Their flies unzipping, They tenderised their turkey’s arse and left him in the dripping.