Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.
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do you remember that fateful day when
ms. popelick’s pet creamery got closed down?
she said, “screw your amen!” and scratched her head
capped as it was by a poppylike crown
you see, what she made tasted so damn good
her processed swirls of sweet death in cones
soused and canned sainthood, and of course
the chef’s specialty, fudge wishbones
she’d grind them up while strumming flesh smoothie
those soft-serve critters gave the church a bad name
animal rights stoogies sued and poked fingers
to stop the cruelty, debauchery, and shame
but she flicked the bean, forced the beasts to sign away
their status as fauna with pawprint, hoof and fluke
veggies for the tray, to dice, salt and roast
then she changed the signboard, and no one could rebuke