To the Operating Room
They’ve taken me to the operating room
For prostate surgery.
I had with me a book of poems
By Uzbek poetesses
That had stirred my passion
With the desire to reach them
And penetrate them.
They were:
Cashanova Dildojoda
Pildora Kojyonuda
Atiza Tosthonova
And Boboqulona Rajadona
Who didn’t notice a thing
When they gave me the anesthesia.
Just as they laid me down on the bed
I was conversing with them:
-The novena of the cunts
Is a very good thing
And that little bouquet I put
Adorns the vulva a lot.
I fell asleep
When I saw them carry a dead man
Out of the operating room
With prostate cancer
Praying to God:
-Father of my soul
Do not let me die.
After the operation
When I woke up in the room
My penis’s throat
Made me stick my tongue out halfway.
-I’m thirsty! I pleaded.
My beloved wife giving me
Drinking water in a plastic bottle
Taken from a vending machine.
Then I shouted:
-Where’s my book of Uzbek poetesses?
Seeing a she doctor who had operated
On me approaching
With a book in her hand
Saying very happily:
-Here, sir, is your book of poems.
The operation went perfectly, flawlessly.
With you it was different
Because we operated on you
With your penis stiff.
I replied:
-Doctor, when I fell asleep under the anesthesia
I saw the Uzbek poetesses coming
Grabbing my penis
Without knowing where they were taking me.
They took me along paths, along trails
And in a wooded area where no one could see us
They started to suck my dick
Like terrible beasts.
The doctor went outside
Laughing uproariously
When she closed the door.
Horror Sleaze Trash 