|Let's see you squeeze out of that...|
I found myself a genie.
Inside a bottle, too.
His master’d had a master Chef who’s rated ‘Cordon Bleu’.
Now, this may sound quite harmless,
In fact, it could be nice.
I know I’ve dreamed of such a cook in my life, once or twice.
But decades of indulgence,
And little of restraint,
And even genies can succumb to lures that’d try a saint.
It’s simple mathematics.
If it don’t come out, it stays.
And somehow settles on the hips and on the stomach, lays.
And so it was with Genie.
I guess he’s just like me.
I'd rather eat those past-e-ries and, Oh! Do you have brie?
So, now, I hold the bottle,
I’m ready for my wish,
But years of gross indulgence have made things rather squished.
Good thing the bottle’s pliable.
Good thing the walls are thin.
Bad thing that Mr. Genie weighed much less when he went in.
But I am so resourceful,
I won’t even need a fork,
I’ll simply squeeze the bottle – he will exit - like a cork.