o' Hell no! Friskydingus folly #Fo! (#4)


Jeffrey Dronehmer, skybound beast,
Torturer of muslims and minorities from southeast
From his cockpit, high and dire,
He rained down hell, radiation fists of fire.

One day the hunger gnawed his spine,
McDonald’s called—double patty divine.
He tweaked his drone, approach and descent,
Rolled through Dallas, reeking predator’s scent

Landed hot in the hood’s own lot,
Jet-black steel, reaper predator taut.
Strode inside like a king on high,
Eager for meat—but not just the fry.

Then he saw them, teen black girl gold,
Young, laughing, fierce and bold.
Lust uncoiled in his wicked brain,
And Dronehmer grinned—slick, insane.

Pushed past the line - mothers, thugs,
Ignored the scowls, the “Who dis scrub?”
He licked his lips, adjusted his gear,
Leered at the teens, voice all sneer:

“Let’s get busy.”

They blinked, confused. “Doing what?”
He smirked, unzipped— “Doing THIS!”
Flesh in hand, twisted bliss,
McDonald’s fell to stunned abyss.

A second. Silence. Then: “Ayy HELL NAW!”
The hood erupted, fists in brawl.
Big hands, brick hands, righteous blows,
Busting his ribs, crushing his nose.

He screamed, he scrambled, he tried to flee,
Friskydingus in hand yelled forth—"No burgers for me!"
They chased him out, a bruised disgrace,
While laughter echoed all through the place.

And there on the curb, fate struck worse,
A rusted tow truck, black paint cursed.
Manhood Willy’s towing truck, bold in chrome,
Dragging his drone—his skybase home.

Jeffrey cursed and ran after the tow, a naked creep,
No burgers, no drone, no war to reap.
Just a fool, limp and defiled,
Lost in the streets where the hunted go wild.
Good job Mr. Willy! Teach this mofo some respect!

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