Queen of the Single Jingle
The plan was to take
the Altima up north
and spent 100 bucks
on two-buck-chucks at Trader Joe’s,
and turn
Ants in the Pants
into a drinking game,
and
profess our love of
two-buck-chucks in a
single-jingle
challenge.
Shit, got that fuckin’ car stuck
in my backyard with mud
halfway up the tires in
Hotzenplotz, South Jersey
and no hope for a tow
‘til later that afternoon.
So we took my Corolla to New Brunswick
for massages at the Happy Ending Asian place
and got kitfo at Makeda’s,
where I broke it to you
that the sign over your bed
was bordeaux, not budoir
and we laughed our asses off.
We met up at the bar with the
superintendent of your apartment complex
because, 2 martini’s in
he was diggin’ your shit so much
he pulled up his shirt
revealing a lack of abs now on full display
and you wrote “Supa-Dupa”
in Sharpie across his gut
chanting:
“two-buck-chuck, two-buck-chuck,
I love-mutha-fuckin-two-buck-chuck.”
It was then and there
I bent the knee in the presence
of the new Queen
of the single jingle.