Hubby was so hard to buy for.
He never liked the gifts I gave.
For days after, I would be sore
From his beatings in rant and rave.
This holiday season, I made
My hubby a gift of himself.
I cut him up with a sharp blade,
Till he was smaller than an elf.
Then put his pieces in a box,
Along with a bunch of dry ice.
No more of taking his hard knocks.
This holiday would be real nice.
Hubby was wrapped. I had to grin.
I wrapped his gift in his own skin.
Ima Ryma
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-last-gift/
