In my day, you have to work HARD to make a butt dial!      Because we had rotary phones.      And they were big.      And it hurt like hell to sit on them.

Butt Dial

Butt-dialing’s
such a wonderful thing
My gluteus calls folks.
Oh, how interesting!

Ring-ring! Let’s call my
proctologist friend.
“Hey doc, it’s me!”
(more like “it’s my rear end!”)

– “Long time no see doc!”
– “I know, it’s been long.
Hey come for a checkup,
and wear that cute thong”.

– “I missed you so much, doc,
I think I’m in love!”
Doc says: “Bend over,
wait where is my glove?”

Doc feels up colon,
as hard as he could.
Then he makes that “tsk tsk” sound.
Shit, this can’t be good.

“You have lots of polips
but they do look benign.
Let’s remove them, quick procedure –
and you’ll be just fine.”

Ah Colonoscopy,
thou art so nifty,
and so beneficial
for people over fifty.

(Wow, when did this poem
about butt dials turn
to a poem ’bout old people
and long-term anal burn?)

—————

Related comic –
two different roles
of two people
who really love black holes.

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