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Son of Jaws: Final Flush by Stewart Stafford
The toilet monster is dead,
He’d been looking flushed,
A plunger sucked its face off,
I don’t miss it, I’m not pushed.
The innocent never had a clue,
Sat on the porcelain throne seat,
They'd kissed their backsides goodbye,
Derrières on rows of razor teeth.
A call of nature, but none returned,
After closing the bathroom locks,
Shoes and knickers found later,
Twisted around frantic socks.
The awful beast left the building,
No critiques of the notori
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