I once knew a guy, wouldn’t really say a friend of mine. Grim-face, tall, and rich, we all just called him Bankenstein. Called him Little Seizure for his nasty little tic. Fell into a coma, we had to call him Rip. Got named Brittany, always made the same mistakes. We called him Crash Test, someone always cut his brakes. In the end though, none of those would stick. I think his name was Nick. He avoided labor, so we called him epidural. Loved country-western, we called him Minnie Pearl. Had a bit of a thing for the younger women. Gave us all the blechs, so we all got together to find his new name: Creep-asaurus Rex. He’d get too cold and then too hot, we used to call him Goldilocks. He disappeared when things got hard, we called him Foreskin from then on. His flatulence would make you cry. He became Raw Onion Guy. Not immensely bright, the name Night Light fit all right. We called him Blister. He’d just show up when the work was done. Good ol’ Wheelbarrow, only moved when pushed by someone. Some stuck, some didn’t. I think his name was Nick. No way his name was Rich. Coulda sworn his name was Nick. He always kept a list, We all called him Saint Nick. We let him take his pick. Pretty sure he went with Nick.
