192 – The Hunt For Miss Annabelle’s Pussy

Poem number 192
.
The Hunt For Miss Annabelle’s Pussy
.
The hunt for Miss Annabelle’s pussy
Was thorough, efficient and long
We searched through the night and we searched through the day
And then figured that something was wrong.
.
So we called on the police, that redoubtable plod
Inspector Tiberius Minge
Who stood with a sigh from his half eaten pie
And winced as his back gave a twinge.
.
“A pussy?” He said, “Are you sure that it’s lost?
Have you looked in her bush and downstairs?”
“Of course!” We all cried, “But all that we spied
In her bush were a few little hairs!
We’re baffled and worried, out of our depth
So whilst we do hate to impinge
On your time, it seems best that we make a request –
Could you possibly, Inspector Minge?”
.
Tiberius rose, tapped his nose with a smile
Said “I’ll sniff out that pussy indeed –
Her pussy is fishy
But Annabelle’s dishy
This could be the chance that I need!”
.
So then we departed, the hunt was restarted
O’er valleys and deep down below
With Minge helping out there was really no doubt
That the pussy would soon be on show.
.
And lo and behold was the mystery solved
As the shadows grew long on the ground
In just shy of an hour standing under the shower
The sopping wet pussy was found.
.
Miss Annabelle sobbed in relief and embraced
The Inspector, who blinked like an owl
Then said, like a champ, “Your poor pussy looks damp
Shall I give it a dry with a towel?”
.
And so ends the tale of Miss Annabelle’s pussy
An epic, I’m sure you’ll concur
The pussy recovered, new love was discovered
When Minge dried the drips off its fur.
.
A marriage ensued and the pussy joined in
At the wedding with nary a whinge
Such a dear little thing so they made it a ring
And now Annabelle’s pussy’s a Minge!

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