An Ode To The Girl That’s Always At The House That No One Likes
From coast to coast, it seems we have a problem
with a particular, curious kind of house goblin.
She’s an interloper pro to the extreme,
with looks rated well below the house mean,
and no one can get her to shoo.
She has been to every house party,
convinced bros to fuck her with Bacardi
and though she bakes a mean cake,
her façade is fake.
She just wants to be on the composite.
At 4am in your basement, she’s there,
listening as you pour your heart out in a large bean bag chair,
she’s just trying to fuck you.
Your house’s alcohol supply she will pillage,
make more Eskimo bros than an Inuit village.
Your date, she will meet,
and she’ll cause her retreat,
so that in your bed she can sleep.
So, how does one exorcise such a curious demon?
You could pelt her with Nattys,
you could set her on fire,
you could dare her to cross the Grand Canyon, via wire.
Most of these will not work, they’re considered assault,
so I’ll recommend a solution with no faults.
Tell her nobody likes her,
that her jokes suck on ice.
You would rather have sex with Bigfoot,
infested with lice.
Say her pastries are lacking,
her laundry skills, sub-par,
that she’s always the world’s worst wing-chick at the bar.
“Get the fuck! Go away!” you’ll exclaim.
“We no longer want to play your weird, sorry game!”
Now here she will leave, some peace you have earned,
but you must always beware of her dreaded return.
For when pledges come back, the chapter’s blood renewed,
she’ll be there, waiting to hook up with some dude.