Stimplet (Heathen’s Cross)

There's something concerning a something or other (or maybe some nothing) that's legible enough to the incorrigible spunk-o-trons--something of a conundrum waged against the unwashed masses (though how many masses were ever truly washed in the first place?).

Within the marketplace usually resides a stimplet or a heathen's cross, neither typically reserved by your dollar store general, though the most unorthodox practitioners beg to differ with one another at the water coolers (especially when they're not as fond of Jeopardy as they once were (post-Trebek and all)). 

Taking out one's emotional and intellectual aggression may be the only recourse that these folks have at a time like this.
The ritual that "normal" adults traditionally take for granted (the grunting and bellowing and raving to get their animal stirrings out of their systems for the sake of the ol' poke-n-sleep maneuver) is losing its luster. 

Jeopardy-inclined individuals with less of a proclivity for such things must feel the constant torment of boundaries established almost solely due to prior intellect, though the subsequent lack of sexually-transmitted maladies is quite desirable (as the quarterly "gal-up" polls would indicate).


Author: Aidan Badinger I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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