Mad Libs on an American Classic

Many of my loved ones are having rough times these days. This is for you! Maybe it will bring a smile to your faces for a moment.

Three sisters and one boyfriend came up with this Mad Libs chef d’oeuvre during a half-day at the water park. I hope you can sing The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel in your head as you read.

First, the inimitable original:

The Boxer

I am just a poor boy
Though my story’s seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Lie la lie …

Asking only workman’s wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Lie la lie …

Then I’m laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me
Bleeding me, going home

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev’ry glove that layed him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains

Lie la lie …

And now, the not-so-original (WARNING: very weird and silly!):

The Spaceman

I am just a pink boy
Though my scooter’s often burnt
I have hustled my pashminas
For a bucket full of french fries
Such are ladybugs
All peas and corn
Still a man hunts what he wants to hunt
And fumigates the porn

When I shot my net and my volleyball
I was no more than an elf
In the running shoes of emcees
In the wave pool of the rocky mountains, goofing off
Rocking out, hopping on the grosser fire pits
Where the scratchy people trip
Rooting for the cocktails only they would sip

Hmm hm hmmm …

Asking only baby’s soothers
I come looking for a shoe
But I get no puddles,
Just a gizmo from the witch on Easy Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so floaty
I took some dog food there

Hmm hm hmmm …

Then I’m throwing out my spicy desk
And wishing I was Greek
Throwing up
Where the California winters aren’t breaking me
taking me, throwing up

In the closet stands a spaceman
And a lifeguard by his trade
And he tickles the big pie plate
Of ev’ry bum that hooked him up
Or smote him till he shouted
In his terror and his glee
“I am dreaming, I am dreaming”
But the spaceman still runs free

Hmm hm hmmmm …