Spiked Poem by Randy Johnson

I'm going to be in this hospital for awhile.
I spiked a watermelon like Sergeant Carter did on Gomer Pyle.
I filled the watermelon with vodka and gave it to my obnoxious friend.
He gave it to his seven feet five brother and my life nearly came to an end.
His brother was president of a corporation and he sure was admired.
But when he went to work drunk, he got fired.
He beat the crap out of me and he wouldn't stop.
My blood was gushing, it had to be wiped up by a mop.
I lost so much blood that I nearly died.
Instead of taking it like a man, I wet my pants and cried.
You have no idea what that pain felt like.
That will be the last watermelon that I'll spike.