There once was a masseur so bold,
Whose fingers would wander and fold.
With sheets tucked in tight,
He’d claim “all is right,”
But his stories grew sordid when told.
A gent on the table declared,
“My testicles felt rather snared!
One hand went adrift,
As though playing a rift,
And frankly I felt quite impaired.”
The ladies spoke up with a frown,
Of breasts where his hands lingered down.
And with noises of trains,
He rehearsed his refrains,
Like a creep in a carnival gown.
The bosses took notes of the crime,
Complaints stacking higher each time.
The verdict was clear,
“Your license stops here,
For your conduct’s both lewd and a slime.”
So heed now this cautionary song,
A masseur who went gravely wrong:
When trust is betrayed,
Reputation decayed,
And the journey was short, though too long.
-
Author:
Randy Carter (
Offline) - Published: August 19th, 2025 10:25
- Comment from author about the poem: A massage therapist was falsely accused by the Iowa State Board of Massage. I took the completely fabricated nonsense and made a poem. enjoy!
- Category: Fantasy
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments1
Love limericks and this one fits the bill. A most fun read about a sordid type of fellow
Absolutely! To clarify though, the claims are false and the State Investigator is the sordid fellow lmao
Even better fuel for a follow up
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