Would You Like to Fuck a Turducken? by Dr. Psi-Uess

I just want to say, man, that you’re my best bro.

We’ve gotten so close, and here’s why that’s so:

Just sitting ‘round talking, we never get bored.

We’re open and honest, no detail ignored.

So if you don’t mind, if you’re not in a hurry,

I’m curious, you see; I have a quick query:

When the going gets rough but you must keep on truckin’,

Have you ever felt urged to fuck a turducken?

Yes, a turducken. Do you know of turducken?

That chicken-duck-turkey that’s no longer a-cluckin’.

A three-layered bird, which after a pluckin’,

Is roasted and toasted and cooked in the oven.

I know that it’s odd, the question I pose,

But I’d like your response, if you’d care to disclose.

When you’re all horned up, with no prayer for a suckin’

Don’t tell me you’ve never yearned for a turducken.

So juicy and tender, this steamy delight,

It sure can improve any cold, lonely night.

I implore you to try it; it’s fun in the most,

Going to town on this triple bird roast.

Seducing just one is truly a crime

When you can make love to three birds at one time.

You say, “That’s disgusting! Distasteful! Inhumane!”

But let me just ask with how many turduckens you’ve lain.

Don’t tell me it’s gross to invade this meat palace

Or of the disgraces performed by my phallus.

“That’s bestiality,” you say to my face

But it’s dead by the time it becomes my wand case.

“Necrophilia then, and since there are three

You’d also be committing polygamy.”

“A perfect trio of sins,” I’d tell you right back,

Before lubing my baster for a turducken smack.

Look, I brought you one here, so try it you must.

And this tiered trinity shall assuage all your lust.

An ethical dilemma, I’ve told you there’s not.

So why look confused, concerned, and distraught?

I’ll see myself out to leave you alone

And allow you to poach three birds with one bone

You won’t need the bread crumbs you bought at the store

To deliver your stuffing straight into its core!

To fuck this cuisine is something every man seeks,

When pining to plow through six luscious bird cheeks.

Nobody shall see it, there’re no creatures in pain,

So why keep insisting you ought to refrain?

If eating turducken is in no way wrong,

Is it really immoral to pack in my schlong?

They’re already dead, and though that sounds sick,

What line do I cross when I insert my dick?

So if you’re ever inclined to dethrone a warm scone,

Bang a meringue, or bone a calzone,

Just remember that you always can try out your luck in

Fucking a freshly-baked, plump, moist turducken.

– BD ’22