The Weekend We Call Dookie

(A Poetic Prediction)

It’s the weekend we call Dookie,

We’ve waited for it all year.

We golf, play cards, and run our mouths,

But mostly we drink beer.

We look like fools and act like dicks, with nothing for us to fear.

It’s the weekend we call Dookie and all my friends are here.

Dan is sure that, if bowling were a real sport, he’d be sponsored by Nike.

His partner, Petzel, however, has yet to meet a gutter he didn’t like.

Dan kisses him and says, “Your mind is in the gutter, I like the way you think.”

Sporting a woody, Dan devises a plan for later, and roofies Petzels drink.

Oakes and Joe think they have it all; they’ve got a plan, brawn and smarts.

Unfortunately, neither one of them have what it takes to do well in darts.

They console each other and Joe reminds Bob that it is still the first day.

Bob ignores him and wonders, “I’ve sweat a lot already, should I change my gay beret?”

Slade is bombing at horseshoes but he was sure he’d be on the mark.

Junior is screaming at him and their futures are looking dark.

Slade is grumbling something about how things are going so wrong,

While Junior wings a wild shoe and it hits Slade in the dong.

Tony puts his head on the table, hoping this feeling will pass.

Phat stares around the room, wondering why everyone is calling him an ass.

Tony thinks to himself, “Maybe I’ll feel better after I take a dump.

Cuz getting Euchred is bad enough, but it’s worse when I’ve still got trump.”

It’s 2:00 P.M. on Saturday and Ray needs to close one eye to aim, see and shoot

Jeff is face down, butt up and snoring. Mr. Hare kicks him with his boot.

Jeff giggles then farts and says something about needing to find a bed.

While Ray trips over his feet, wobbles, and breaks his fall with his head.

Rorge flips over a table and screams “You suck. That trump was your call!”

Sean screams back, “Quit yelling. I’m sensitive” and flicks Rorge’s left ball.

Rorge says, “O.k., you got me, now watch my little trick.”

He waves around his left hand, then kicks Sean in the dick.

Marshall and Rick, what a pair, they’ll be the “Constantly Missing Team.”

Marshall is screwing around at the house and Rick is off smoking weed.

Rick says, “Dude…you’re breaking my rhythm, it’s because of you we’re last.”

Marshall steals a steak from the grille and proceeds to ram it in Rick’s ass.

On Sunday, Collins sidles up and says he got an ace.

He teed it up, let her rip, and it hit Ryan in the face.

Ryan says, “That’s alright…I can let that that one slide.

It’s your other shitty shots that I’ll be thinking about as I’m skinning you for your hide.”

Our Dookie weekend is starting, each year it gets stronger.

Alcohol tolerances have grown and the hangovers keep lasting longer.

The Hare’s treat us like family as they keep us well hydrated and fed,

They deal with our foul language, smelly asses and all of our makeshift beds

While we are competing against each other, there is something to which we agree.

We’re tired of seeing Dan’s name on those cups and this year it should be me.

It’s the weekend we call Dookie,

We’ve waited for it all year.

We golf, play cards, and run our mouths,

But mostly we drink beer.

We look like fools and act like dicks, with nothing for us to fear.

It’s the weekend we call Dookie and all my friends are here.