I want my frickin chicken cooked medium well
And if I don’t get it I think I’ll yell
I want my frickin chicken now
And I don’t really care how
Maybe by a little speed boat
Or a cute Billy goat
I want it topped with my favorite dressing
And you chefs better not be guessing
Oh, I want that bottle of wine on the side
You there, you’re fired. At least you tried
You’re all incompetent fools
Wipe up my dog’s drool
You better get rid of that clown
Before I have a mental breakdown
Wait, where are you all going?
You haven’t finished mowing
You can’t all just quit. I’m the frickin queen
Besides there is no such thing as being too mean
Worst of all I don’t have my chicken
You people are lucky I have been stickin’
Around. I’m a very nice person
In this entire poem I haven’t been cursin’
I’m a great humanitarian
Wait…that reminds me, I’m a vegetarian