Bloodhound Gang

Miss Hildebrandt's fourth-grade reading class, 9:30 a.m.

" . . . very good, Sarah. Emily Dickinson was a fine choice. All right, Jeffrey, what poem have you brought in for us today?"

"This is a new one I found called ÔFoxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo,' by Jimmy Pop Ali."

"Hmm, I haven't heard of that writer. Is he from Cuba? Kenya, perhaps?"

"He's from the Bloodhound Gang."

"Oh. . . well, all right, go ahead, Jeffrey."

"Vulcanize the whoopee stick/In the ham wallet/Cattle prod the oyster ditch/with the lap rocket/Batter dip the cranny ax/in the gut locker/Retrofit the pudding hatch/Ooh la la/with the boink swatter/Marinate the nether rod/in the squish mitten/Power drill the yippee bog/with the dude piston/Pressure wash the quiver bone/in the bitch wrinkle/Cannonball the fiddle cove/Ooh la la/with the pork stee -- "

"Aiiiieeeeee!!!" (thud)

"Miss Hildebrandt, are you okay? Miss Hildebrandt?!"