And It Happened On Friday Poem by Donna McCord

It’s a funny tale I sit down to write
And from my perspective it just don’t sound right.
What are the odds that something so innocent
Would come back to haunt me and seem so indecent?

I have a condition that has plagued me a while
It’s called I.B.S. or just Irritable Bowel.
I ate more than usual for lunch yesterday,
Then mixed it with Asian – that’s every Thursday.

So I get to work and I’m already scootin’.
I’m gassy and bloated and poopin’ and pootin’.
I made a mistake, a small indiscretion,
So I rinse out my panties ‘til they pass inspection.

But now what to do? I can’t wear them wet.
I know! I’ll call husband, he’s not left for work yet.
I tell him my plight and he’s such a nice guy!
He’ll bring me some clean ones and I’ll change on the fly.

He arrives like the cavalry – his good deed is done.
I thank him and tell him he sure is a sweet one.
He said it’s no trouble, what did I do with the soiled pair?
I told him I washed them, in my van they can air.

You want to put them in here in my truck?
Sure I say and out of my bra they are plucked.
I hand him the ‘package’ a bundle of white.
By now you have guessed it, this just don’t look right.

Behind him in her car sits our security cop.
I thought this over-Oh my gosh, now we are caught..
He hands me what appears to be nothing but tea
In a box-it’s honey lemon-but inside are my panties.

Oh great! Now this looks like a drug deal, you see?
I see her write something on her pad! Oh good grief!
Should I run and tell her just what has transpired?
But what if she saw nothing? She may just be tired!

I opt to do nothing, but now it seems funny!
What if she called the Vice on my honey?
They’ll pull him over and do a car search
And there sits my panties, damp but unhurt.

I may just keep a clean pair hereafter
So I’ll be prepared for the next such disaster
It will be easier explained than this tale I’ve told
I won’t soon forget this, I’m already old.