Sick in the Head (With Apologies to Shel Silverstein

For a school assembly in 1990, my first grade class performed "Sick" by Shel Silverstein. I have no idea why. But it was cute. It was also the first thing I ever had to memorize, and I still have big chunks of it in my head.

Due to boredom, my real inclination to play hooky, and a need to say weird, gross, and (hopefully) humorous things, I've updated it. Originally, I was just going to post the poem, but I have vivid memories of Mrs. Wallace putting the Where the Sidewalk Ends tape in the tape player and listening to Mr. Silverstein recite his poems. I've tried to recreate that magic. Update... Audio works fine, but for some reason, I can't get the video to play the entire text.

I give you...

Sick in the Head  (With Apologies to Shel Silverstein)

by 

Jack Batongbakal

"I can't go to work and take a call,"
Said big ol' Jack Batongbakal.
I have a cold. Or maybe the flu.
Good God, does this wound smell alright to you?
My nose is clogged. The world is spinning.
I was only 19 when my hair started thinning.
My hands are sticky.  My throat is dry.
I'm going blind in my right eye!
No, both eyes!  Or I need thicker glasses.
I have that condition where you have three asses.
It's too bright in here.  Someone grab me some shades.
I think that French hooker gave me Super AIDS!
And this erection's lasted longer than 8 hours.
I've taken nothing but cold showers.
I drank some juice and ate some Wheaties.
And I'm gonna lose both feet to the Diabetes!

My heart is broken. It's that Geena's fault.
Ya know, that bia cheated on my with my best friend,
And then neither of them told me. I found out from Mike.
Fucking Mike. I mean, what the fuck, man?
Ya know? Like... I barely even know Mike.
But Mike had the balls to tell me.
I mean, what the fuck, right?
Oh my god, my brain is... Yall, I've forgotten how to rhyme...
The... size of my pee-hole... is the size of a dime.
Oh, there it is. Whew, that's a relief.
I think I ate some tainted beef.

I've been to 10 doctors. Nobody has an answer.
I went down on Catherine Zeta-Jones, and I, too, got cancer.
I shared some needles and toilet seats.
I didn't wash my hands while handling meats.
My ear just fell off.  You're gonna have to shout.
If this were House, it'd take three episodes to figure out.
And it'd be one of those ones where the patient dies.
And it'd get all emotional. You'll need tissues to dry your eyes.
But I don't care what he says. We can't rule out Lupus.
Oh, and fuck Gallant. I seem to be siding more often with Goofus.

I can't tell a happy face from a frown.
The only time I feel right is when I dress like a clown.
Something's biting me. I think its fleas.
Does fucking a bull give you mad cow disease?
Because I think I have mad cow disease, it's true.
'Cause, yeah, I fucked a bull... Okay, not one bull. Two.

I think there's a mogwhai inside of my rectum.
If you have a flashlight, the bright light will affect him.
But don't feed it after midnight. It's dangerous, see.
I don't want more than one mogwhai inside of me.

I just sneezed, and it required eight tissues,
Don't get me started on my abandonment issues.
I'm having girl problems... But I mean... I'm menstruating, son.
I have 99 problems, and somehow, an itch ain't one.
I gotta book my funeral at a church with a steeple.
I have that thing where I'm seeing dead people.
And yet I can't see my own reflection.
NOW I CAN'T CONTROL MY INFLECTION.
I BLEED OUT MY EARS WHEN I DRINK TOO MUCH SODA.
AND SOMETIMES I CAN'T STOP TALKING LIKE YODA.
Fucked I am. Dying soon, I will be.
The force doesn't seem to be very strong with me.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is- What?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is Saturday?
That really doesn't change anything because I'm seriously fucked.
I've  got 10 more minutes to watch my body self-destruct.

I talked to a poet.  He said it was the worst case he'd ever seen.
Also, I'm sorry for puking on you, ghost of Shel Silverstein.