THE BEETCHES

Now, the Big Boobed Beetches
Had chests shaped like mountains.
The Small Boobed Beetches
Had chests more like fountains.

Those weren�t so great. They were really quite pall.
You would think such a thing wouldn�t matter at all.

But, because they had bigguns, all the Big Boobed Beetches
Would brag, �We�re the best kind of Beetch, for us, life�s a beach.�
With their noses in the air, they�d bounce and they�d retort
�We�ll have nothing to do with the Small Boobed sort!�
And whenever they met some, when they were out stalking,
They�d walk right on past them, without even gawking.

When the Big Boobed Beetches would go out to the bars,
Men jumped their bones, but the Small Boobed Beetches, had none upon thars.
You could only get dat azz if you had knockers, or hooters or melons.
So the Small Boobed Beetches may as well have been felons.

When the Big Boobed Beetches had orgies,
Or parties or barbeque gorgies,
They never invited the Small Boobed Beetches.
They left them out cold, in the dark they were really such leeches.
They kept them away. Never let them come near.
Kept the men to themselves, year after year.

Then ONE day, it seems�while the Small Boobed Beetches
Were moping and groping and doping one another with peaches,
Just sitting there wishing they had a big Rack�
A stranger whizzed by in the strangest Cadillac!

�Ladies,� he announced in a voice clear and coy,
�My name is Dr. Christian Imagolddigging McTroy.
And I�ve heard of your troubles. I�ve heard you�re unhappy.
But I can fix all of that. I can make you feel sappy!
I�ve come here to help you. I have what you need.
My prices are quite low, I don�t work for greed.
And my boobs and my knockers are one hundred and ten percent guaranteed!�

Then, quickly, Dr. McTroy
Pulled out his scalpel, his favorite toy.
And he said, �You want knockers, like a Big Boobed Beetch�?
My ladies, you can have them for three thousand dollars each!�

�Just pay your money and go under the knife!�
So they went under with drugs, not fearing for their life
And he cut. And he inserted. And he nipped and he tucked
And sewed them up tight. And these poor virgin ladies would finally get fucked!
When the small boobed Beetches popped out, they had MOUNTAINS!
They actually did. Say goodbye to small fountains!

So they yelled at the ones who had JUGGS at the start,
�We�re exactly like you! You can�t tell us apart.
We�re all the same, now, you dumbass retardies!
And now we can go to your orgies and sausage parties.�

�Holy shit!� groaned the ones who had HOOTERS at first.
�We�re still the best Beetches and THEY are still the worst.
But, now, how in the hell can we know who is who,� they frowned,
�Which kind is what, and whose tits are more round!�

Then up came McTroy sipping a drink
And he said, �Your tits aren�t as ordinary as you think.
So you can�t tell who is who, this maybe true.
But come with me foxy ladies, and let me PERFECT you.
I�ll TRANSFORM you, again, to the Hottest, Most DESIRED of Beetches
And all it will cost you is three thousand dollars, eaches.�

�Big Boobs are no longer in style,� said McTroy.
�What you need is the enhancement surgery, I employ.
This amazing procedure will reduce superfluously big hooters
So you will no longer be bothered by annoying booty looters.
And that surgery
Working very precisely
Reduced their huge Melons, quite nicely.

Then with their noses in the air, they sauntered about
And they opened their loudmouths and let out a shout,
�We know who is who, we have nothing more to say.
The best kind of Beetches aren�t DD, yet are single A!�

Then, of course, those with Big Fake Ones, were shocked and so mad.
To be voluptuous and stacked, was now so pass� and bad.
The, of course, Dr. Christian Imagolddigging McTroy
Invited them, to go under, and allow him to cut with his toy.

Then of course from THEN on, as you probably guess,
The lives of these poor Beetches was a horrible, sad mess.

All the rest of that day, and many to come, on those wild irate Beetches,
The Make-You-Pretty procedure, kept fixing up Beetches.
D-cup to A-cup! A-cup to D!
Bigger than Smaller than Larger than Wee!
On and off the operating table they raced and about again,
Changing their bust size every day, maybe two.
They spent all their savings, their inheritance too
Until neither the Big Boobed nor the Small Boobed knew
Whether this one was that one�or that one was this one
Or which breasts were what one or what ones where who.

Then when every last cent,
Of their portfolios were all spent,
The Make-You-Pretty Doctor packed up
Off he went.

And he laughed as he drove
In his caddie, going far out of reach,
�Thank god for the Barbie Doll.
For you can fool a Beetch!�

But McTroy was oh so wrong. I�m quite happy to say
That the Beetches showed their brilliance and smarts on that day,
The day they decided that Beetches are Beetches
And no kind of Beetch is the best on the beaches.
That day, all the Beetches forgot about bust size
And whether they had bigguns or smalluns, no longer matters, I surmise.

I based this on The Sneetches, obviously, by Dr. Seuss. It is my favorite Seuss book and it talks about racism essentially, and makes a good point. Looks don�t matter in the grand scheme of things, if they did I would never get a piece� well�bad example. But you get the point. I hate how society has put all this pressure on what a woman should or shouldn�t look like. Seems that most women I meet aren�t happy with how they look. Some want bigger breasts some want smaller. Some want to gain weight some want to drop some. But rarely have I met the one that is happy with how she looks and that is sad, and I blame the media and society in general.

I hope you enjoyed my little attempt at Dr. Seuss, and please check out Rhi�s Entry hers are usually a lot better than mine!

Thank you Steph, for the help with some of the rhymes and for the topic. Thank you Rhi for the idea, and thank you to Dr Seuss for being a huge influence on me and grown up children everywhere!

BTW�sorry about the pic I am no artist certainly. I wasn�t going to post it, but I thought it might be sorta funny. So I through it on there for shits and giggles.

Ciao!

Pat