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Parodies in Pink
By Pretzelgirl
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
Thayer and French, Service and Moore;
How to acknowledge these poets galore?
From Shel Silverstein to the great Doctor Seuss
Like goddesses ancient, they are my muse.
Then Jennifer Adams and also Bill Hart,
Inspired this somewhat; they did their part.
My debt to these authors must be confessed:
"Without whom I couldn't have..." -- you know the rest.
***
"Casey at the Drag-Club"
-->Based on "Casey at the Bat" by Ernest L. Thayer
The evening looked quite dismal at the Polo Club that night;
The patrons, in their suits and ties, seemed angry and uptight,
So when Crystal broke a heel, and Beth's stockings had a run,
The owner of the drag club said, "I fear we are undone!"
"A big-shot critic's out there now, just waiting to review.
If the show tonight ain't really good, then our days here are through.
We've only one last single hope to save our necks, I'd gauge.
We need to get that drag queen Casey up upon the stage!"
Now Casey was a legend told of all throughout the town.
His exploits wearing skirts and dresses earned him great renown.
In five-inch heels, he could saunter down the street with grace.
Lipstick, rouge, and eyeshadow done skillful on his face.
When Casey chose to dress up, it was such a swell illusion
Between his legs you could not see the slightest small protrusion
The clothes he wore he chose with the finest sense of fashion,
Thrusting into his new role with incredible passion.
Casey lived just one street off from where the drag club stood.
So down the block, the drag club owner ran fast as he could.
Breathlessly he explained, "I'm in an awful squeeze.
I need you on the stage tonight. Wouldja do it, please?"
There was ease in Casey's manner as he calmly heard the news.
There was pride in Casey's face as he removed his tennis shoes.
And as he slid his heels on, he answered with: "You bet!
I'll do the show, and this will be the best night you've had yet!"
The owner waited nervously while Casey primped and preened,
While Casey shaved and scrubbed his face till it was squeaky clean,
While Casey did his makeup and put earrings in his ears,
And stuffed foam padding on his chest to fill out his brassiere.
A mini-skirt and ribbed, knit-top completed his attire.
He posed in knee-high leather boots and knew he was Desire.
"What do you think?" he asked as he struck a sexy stance.
The drag club owner smiled and said, "I think we've got a chance!"
Now, through Casey's many escapades, he held just one regret:
For his life en femme, while known to some, remained a small secret.
Most everyone knew Casey liked to dress-up as a she...
Most everyone, that is except for Casey's family.
Yet still he chose to dress-up, hoping he'd be a smash hit.
But when he peeked out past the stage, it nearly made him quit.
For that fateful night, out among the audience there numbered:
His uncle, cousin, godfather, and sister's neighbor's plumber.
Seeing hesitation in his brand-new volunteer,
The drag club owner said to Casey, "You've nothing to fear.
They couldn't recognize you; your worries can't upstage us.
Casey, you're the best we've got. You must please be courageous!"
"I know at first that this may seem an awkward situation.
But it's never really quite as bad as the anticipation.
Remember fear is just a thing that lurks inside your mind.
You're strong and beautiful; you're going to have a wondrous time!"
Oh, somewhere in this care-free land a man is wearing tights;
He lip-syncs to some fresh pop tune, and dances 'neath spotlights,
Somewhere the crowd is smiling, and the seats have all sold-out;
But there's no mirth at the Polo Club -- great Casey chickened out.
***
"The Ballad of Wizard and Medallion"
-->Based on "Abdul Abulbul Amir" by Percy French
When sons become daughters and girls become men,
You might think the tales are untrue.
Yet that's ne'er the case if they've been to the place
of the old wizard from S-R-U.
If you wanted a guy who can quick beautify
and lend you a new point-of-view
It's no treasure-hunt, just go find the storefront
of the old wizard from S-R-U.
And when Fate you Alter and things start to falter
and breasts on your chest start to grow.
Then that's all she wrote -- for around your poor throat
is the one Medallion of Zulo.
In order to become just about anyone
touch to denim ... or to calico.
For then soon the bearer becomes the old wearer;
thanks be -- Medallion of Zulo!
One day some poor schmuck deeply down on his luck,
without both love and revenue,
Found shoppe quaint and strange, and requested a change
of the old wizard from S-R-U.
The wizard was cruel, put the guy in pre-school:
a li'l girl dressed all in blue
"It's a better outlook, with mom's love and checkbook,"
said the old wizard from S-R-U.
Yet that's not the end, for soon mommy did spend
for a trunk at an auction some dough.
She did not realize in her box was a prize:
the one Medallion of Zulo.
This man in-girl-body one day playing naughty
climbed in mom's trunk on tippy-toe,
She reached in and pulled out dress-up clothes to try out
and the one Medallion of Zulo.
She touched an old dress and soon came to possess
a grown body out-of-the-blue.
Mom flipped when she saw little girl -- now tall!
and went straight to the Shoppe S-R-U.
With a great caterwaul, they tore through the mall,
the girl now a tall, blonde bimbo
Finally found the old man: said, "I'll do what I can;
looks like the Medallion of Zulo."
The wizard did grin, and the bimbo again
was a girl with her hair in a bow.
Yet what's been rearranged is not easily changed
when against the pow'r of Zulo.
For back at the home, the Medallion alone
lay patiently in a trunk low.
It's power to unfurl, it waited for the girl
to rediscover the might of Zulo.
Within but an hour the Medallion's great power
did the magic of the wizard undo.
And the boy-become-lass was now caught in a clash
'tween Medallion and Mage S-R-U.
Medallion and Wizard, they fought day and night,
an icon and most worthy foe.
The mage, he was strong, but so too was the might
of the one Medallion of Zulo.
With no ground to field, the wizard did yield,
and Medallion gave up it's foothold.
So the man would remain a woman with the brain
of a little girl just three-years-old.
There's a store in this land, in a new mall each week
specializing in the switcheroo.
Good travelers when passing beware this boutique,
and the old wizard from S-R-U.
And likewise use caution if ever you find
that artifact from long ago,
That magical necklace, that one-of-a-kind:
the one Medallion of Zulo.
***
"The Transformation of Coach's Team"
-->Based on "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert W. Service
From far and from wide, there are tales of pride
For every school in the land.
Of the basketball team or the homecoming queen
Of the cheerleaders or marching band.
Each school has a story of scholastic glory;
But one tale stands out as most odd.
They speak of it still in the town of Midville,
Of what happened to their football squad.
When Coach Smith came to town, he laid the law down:
"Boys, you are in for a trip!
We'll achieve all our dreams, we'll defeat other teams,
We'll win that state championship!
You'll all have to strive -- out there, look alive!
I'll say once again what I meant:
If you'll all follow me, we'll win that tourney,
just give one-hundred-ten percent."
The first practice was rough; "Are you men or creampuffs?"
The coach bellowed in his rage.
"You throw like a sissy!" yelled coach, in a hissy.
"And won't ever make the sports page!
This team's really hurtin' and now I'm asserting
You should've stayed at intramurals.
Tight End, Quarterback, Wide Receiver, Fullback,
Each one of ya throws like a girl!"
And that very night, as the team slept tight
A queer sensation swept all.
At home each teen had curious dreams,
Not a one involving football.
Butterflies or ponies or wedding day matrimonies
Consumed each of the boys' thoughts.
No dreamer was spared these girlish nightmares:
No player nor even mascot.
The next day on the field, the boys couldn't conceal
How bothered they were by the dreams.
There were tumbles and spills; they had trouble with drills,
While again Coach was letting off steam:
"No, that was no good. You run like girls would!
Can't anyone here play this game?
Rick, Bobby, and Peter! You want to all be cheerleaders?
'Cuz you're bringing us nothing but shame!"
When his voice become numb, then the practice was done,
And the boys hit the locker room.
Inside, every jock engaged in girl-talk
Gossiping 'bout who dated whom.
They giggled and laughed about students and staff,
Filling the room with their chatter.
They posed in the mirror and tried to see clearer
If their uniforms made them look fatter.
And that night once again, the dreams did begin,
And flowers filled every boy's head.
The unfolding petals most strangely unsettled
The lads at home in their beds.
They turned and they tossed, and each one felt a loss
As his body shrank a half-foot.
They awakened to find delicately refined
new bodies as the night's output.
Practice the next day was more like a ballet;
The players were graceful and lissome.
Their attempts to tackle were still a debacle,
So coach still yelled they were no-good-bums.
"You've gotta be hardy ... This ain't no tea party!
Don't act like you're scared of some dirt.
Shape up! Play like hell or you just might as well
Show up here wearing a skirt!"
The boys thought that was funny; one laughed and said, "Honey
We'd be a beautiful squad!"
Coach scowled, scratched his head, and then finally said:
"Don't get your panties in a wad.
Now all you prim flowers, go off -- hit the showers!"
And off to the lockers they skipped.
Once there, they observed all their hips had new curves
And their private parts seemed less well-equipped.
No boy was the same, as once more the dreams came
And night-magic around them all swirled.
In a fairy tale land, each lad's mammary glands
Swelled into those of a young girl.
Facial hair disappeared and they each grew pierced ears
And their lips became pouty and full.
New teen girly clothes from their closets did flow:
Skirts, dresses, and sweaters of wool.
The boys the next morn awoke as newborns
And smiled to see faces so pretty.
They painted their nails, wore hair in pig-tails
And acted both silly and giddy.
They wore gloss on their lips and shared petty gossip
About other girls in their classes.
In body and soul, they'd become, on the whole,
Not lads, but now bonny lasses.
Practice was a joke, and Coach Smith nearly choked
When he saw what his team had become.
His fists tightly clenched when he saw on the bench
A line of young girls chewing gum.
With rage, the coach trembled and saw none resembled
The boys they had formerly been.
"This isn't the end. You're still playing, my friends!
'Cuz I still have big plans to win!"
"I'll make this crystal clear: The first game of the year
is tonight, I'll have you all know.
And in jockstraps or bras, there's no way we'll withdraw.
We're fighting this one, blow-by-blow!
In the lion's den, pretend you're still men,
Keep it in mind; you can't fail!"
"But coach," one girl asked. "We're not up to this task.
See this -- I've already chipped a nail!"
Despite coach's schemes, that night they got creamed.
And the girls all came out black-and-blue.
They ached and they limped while coach screamed, they had wimped
And given up before it was through.
Despite the frustration, there was one consolation
About how the night had unfurled:
"We may have got beat," coach scowled in defeat.
"But you shoulda seen the other team's girls!"
From far and from wide, there are tales of pride
For every school in the land.
Of the basketball team or the homecoming queen
Of the cheerleaders or marching band.
Each school has a story of scholastic glory;
But one tale stands out as most odd.
They speak of it still in the town of Midville,
Of what happened to their football squad.
***
"A Visit to My Sister's Room"
-->Based on "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" by Clement Clark Moore
'Twas a night like any other, when all through our home
The family was silent; so I knew I could roam.
I crept out of my bed and tiptoed down the stairs
For Becky, my sister, had big plans elsewheres.
She and some friends were on some camping trip
So in her room I went, and my pants I unzipped.
I was stealthfully quiet as I stripped my underwear
For my parents were sleeping, not too far from there.
Holding my breath, I pulled on her soft panties
The size wasn't perfect, and they seemed a bit scanty.
I didn't have time though to be more discerning.
My cravings and urges inside me were burning.
Her bra was lacy and size 32B.
O'er it I pulled on a tight babydoll tee.
I slid my legs into her hip-hugger jeans,
And found that they nicely would fit my inseams.
To make the experience seem somewhat more real
I squeezed into a pair of chunky black heels,
And applied eyeshadow and some face glitter
In hopes I'd resemble more my teenage sister.
The only hard part was my rather short hair,
But I was creative and did not despair.
Becky would sometimes style her hair up,
And I figured I could mimic that setup
With a mirror and patience and a bobby pin
I finally looked almost like my sister's twin.
The effect was not perfect, but at dark like this
I dreamed that I looked at least somewhat like sis.
I posed and I preened in front of her mirror
And between my sister felt nearer and dearer.
I knew that some spirit I had conjured up
By wearing her clothing and donning make-up,
Brought a sense of calm that soothed me from within,
As I felt I'd become somehow more feminine.
Her clothes had exerted a magical power
That caused me to quickly lose track of the hour.
I know not how long, fixated I stood
Enraptured with dreams of my new sisterhood.
Then suddenly, my ears caught an awful sound.
I turned towards the doorway, both scared and spellbound.
For out in the hall, sitting in the stairwell
Was our tomcat Spot, meowing out a great yell.
I knew that I shouldn't leave my sister's room
While dressed as I was, in this girlish costume.
Yet Spot wouldn't shut up; I had to go get him.
So quickly I crept out, both determined and grim.
I picked up and held the cat tight in my arms
Hoping to somehow silence his alarms.
That's when a new sight made me white as a sheet.
I trembled with weakness; my heart skipped a beat.
For there on the staircase, with eyes full of ire
Was dad in a bathrobe -- and me in this attire.
I spoke not a word; I hardly dared breathe.
I knew I sensed his anger boil and seethe.
He glared hard right at me, sighed once, and then said:
"PUT DOWN THE CAT, BECKY, AND GET BACK TO BED!"
***
"Rodger Roberto Ricardo Roy"
-->Based on "Sahra Cynthia Sylvia Stout" by Shel Silverstein
Rodger Roberto Ricardo Roy
Would not dress up as a boy!
He'd brush his teeth and comb his hair,
Scrub the dishes, sweep the stairs,
In every way a wondrous joy,
He just refused to dress like a boy.
A pair of jeans? ... not a chance!
He'd wear a skirt, but never pants.
Wearing sneakers? ... he abstains,
Preferring patent maryjanes.
Denim shorts? ... he boycotts,
Donning pink pastel culottes.
A T-shirt? ... he scoffs, "Bah!"
Pulling on his training bra.
Tighty-Whities? ... he turns sour.
His panties have purple flowers.
White gym socks? ... his view is dim.
His bobby socks have lacy trim.
A baseball cap? ... better yet,
Try a delicate bonnet.
His girlish wardrobe overflows,
His closet door too cramped to close.
A rumbling, tumbling reservoir
Of dresses lie upon the floor.
His parents pleaded for him to cease
His attempts to look like their niece.
"Rodger Roberto," they would say.
"You can't go out dressed in this way!"
But Rodge, who liked to be called Ruth,
Felt being a boy was too uncouth.
"I won't go out while wearing jeans!
Not unless it's Halloween."
His parents both were adamant,
And Rodger Roy would not repent.
So there he pouted, in his room:
A feminine, pink, frilly tomb.
The years passed by, and still he stayed
For neither parent could be swayed.
And Rodger too remained stubborn,
Steadfast, refused to live-and-learn.
Both parties had to have their way,
So neither made any headway.
Children, learn this lesson well:
You can be both a boy and belle,
But make sure you can compromise
Or the outer world, you shall not spy.
***
"Bert-in-Skirt"
-->Based on "Green Eggs & Ham" by Doctor Seuss
Bert in Skirt.
Skirt on Bert.
I am Bert-in-Skirt.
That Bert-in-Skirt, that Bert-in-Skirt.
I do not like that Bert-in-Skirt.
Do you like your hair styled pert?
I do not like my hair styled "pert!"
I do not like that, Bert-in-Skirt.
How about a dress to wear?
I would not like a dress to wear.
I would not do that anywhere.
And I do not want my hair styled pert.
I do not like that, Bert-in-Skirt.
Would you like to wear a blouse?
Maybe just around the house?
I do not want to wear a blouse.
Not even "just around the house."
I do not want a dress to wear.
I would not do that anywhere.
I do not want my hair styled pert.
I do not like that, Bert-in-Skirt.
Look! ... Inside this box:
Maryjanes and schoolgirl socks!
Close up your box.
Throw out the socks.
I won't wear a blouse.
Not around the house.
I would not like a dress to wear.
I would not do that anywhere.
And, I do not want my hair styled pert.
I do not like that, Bert-in-Skirt.
What about this bra of lace?
You should wear it, just-in-case.
I would not wear that anyplace!
You would like them -- I would think.
You would like these panties pink.
I would not, could not ever think
Of wearing bra or panties pink.
I do not like what's in your box.
I do not like those shoe-n-socks.
I do not like to wear a blouse.
I do not like that in my house.
I do not want a dress to wear.
I do not want people to stare!
And, I do not want my hair styled pert.
I do not like that, Bert-in-Skirt.
Pantyhose! Pantyhose! Pantyhose! Pantyhose!
Could you, would you wear pantyhose?
No pantyhose. No panties pink.
No lacy bra -- Bert you stink!
I would not wear what's in that box.
I would not wear schoolgirl knee socks.
I would not wear a girly blouse,
Especially not "around the house!"
I would not like a dress to wear.
I would not do this anywhere!
I do not want my hair styled pert.
I do not like that, Bert-in-Skirt.
Say -- lingerie! After dark, lingerie!
Would you like to wear lingerie?
I would not wear such lingerie.
At dark, nobody could suppose?
I would not, could not wear those clothes.
Not a nightgown, and not pantyhose.
Not a lacy bra. Not panties pink.
Bert, how low do you think I'd sink?
Not a girly blouse. Not around the house.
Not what's in the box. Not the shoes-n-socks.
I do not want a dress to wear.
I'd never do that anywhere!
And, I do not want my hair styled pert.
I do not like that, Bert-in-Skirt.
You do not want to wear girl's clothes?
That's the thing I do oppose.
Could you wear a wedding gown?
I would not wear a wedding gown.
It's my sister's hand-me-down.
I could not wear a wedding gown.
Bert, your world is upside down.
Listen to the stuff you say!
I would not wear that lingerie.
I will not wear those pantyhose.
I will not wear any girly clothes.
Not a lacy bra. Not panties pink.
What would the people who see me think?
Not a girly blouse. Not around the house.
Not what's in the box. Not the shoes-n-socks.
I do not want a dress to wear.
I'd never do that anywhere!
I do not want my hair styled pert.
I do not like that, Bert-in-Skirt.
Before you say you must decline,
Try it. You may change your mind.
You may like it, you will find.
Bert ... If you will let me be,
I will try it. You will see.
Grrrrr... Hmmmmm... Ermmmm... Ahhhhhhhh!
Say ... I do like my hair styled pert.
I do! I like it, Bert-in-Skirt.
And I would like a dress to wear.
(And perhaps a few ribbons for my hair?)
And I would wear these panties pink, and lacy bra, and pantyhose, and lingerie
They're all so silky smooth, I say!
So I will be a real fox!
And I will wear these cute knee socks.
And I will wear that lovely blouse.
(And not just inside of the house!)
I do so love these things to wear,
I'd dress up this way ANYWHERE!
I do so like my hair styled pert.
Thank you ... Thank you, Bert-in-Skirt.
***
An Original Limerick
At the gym, as two men laid bare
One remarked, "Is that girl's underwear?"
"I wear 'em," the man said
"Since stuffed 'neath the bed
My wife discovered this pair."
-The End-
Arisha
- 29.02.2020
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