Meth knew his uncle Chester was a great, wise man.
He would always talk about a place called, pen island.
It was here, Chester said, that all the best little boys
were rewarded for playing right, while not making a noise.
Meth begged and begged Chester to take him straight there,
to which he said, "ok, but first, you know we must strip bare!"
Meth couldn't help but feel nervous and give out a sudden breath,
but clothes couldn't go to the island, so he did what uncle said.
Meth followed his father's brother, blindfolded, through the house
then they walked into a space where Meth could swear he'd been around.
"Alright bud, we made it! Now listen to direction...
grip this di... pen... real tight, and try to stroke it with a vengeance.
What are u doing? Don't cry Meth, don't be a fucking baby,
you gotta warm the pens up before you start writing with them crazy!"
And so, Meth did as he was told. For an hour.
Eventually he got out, and uncle gave him a shower.
Meth sat in his room, sad, feeling unimportant.
Then out of nowhere, Blam! METH FUCKIN EXPLODED!
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