The Gunk Man

by Brian Dykstra

This here’s the story of The Gunk Man
He lived in a trunk filled with junk, man
He used to be a hunk with junk in his trunk
But lately he’s been in a funk, man.

He once knew this Ms. Suzy Fru-Fru
Who never cleaned after her dog doo.
A Jew with a crew got poo on his shoe
So he hired out hero to make Suzy a zero
& that’s what he decided to do.

The Gunk Man stuffed a stun gun into his cummerbund, with his fun gun
He loaded his guns with underdone buns
And shot Suzy to give her the runs.

So Suzy Fru ran to the loo, AKA the W.C.
She came on down, from way uptown to drop her load and pee
But opening up her bathroom door, the Gunk Man she did see.
He held a scoop of Fido’s poop all crusty, brown and dry
He held her gaze, amazed, in a daze, and looked her in the eye
Suzy waited alienated, she had to hold her breath
Because the Gunk Man (boy, he stunk, man) threatened her with death
“You’ll clean your poo, this ain’t no zoo, you’ll curb your doggy pee
And curb means curb means curb means curb, not hydrant, sign, or tree.
Cause if you don’t or won’t you see, you’ll have to deal with me.”

But Suzy wouldn’t do it, she couldn’t let this be
She threw her head back and attacked,
“ Mack, you’d better take that back or I’ll smack you like a flea.
I’d let my doggie take a pee upon your gimpy knee
Or foot or leg or arm or eye or on your water ski
If Fido kills your favorite tree, well, that’s okay with me.”

She took a stride right past him, threw that man aside
And used the loo to take that poo the bubbled up inside
But after Suzy finished, that’s when she understood his caper
The Gunk-Man had a corner on the whole town’s toilet paper

He’d aquired all the Charmin, the White Cloud, and the Scott
And every single tissue box was something else he bought
So Suzy had a problem, there was nothing that would quench
Her need to wipe her reeking ass and mitigate the stench
That’s when her problems multiplied, he held the bathroom keys
And she was trapped, sapped by a smell that brought her to her knees
It wasn’t the Gunk-Man that stunk like a skunk, man, it was her doggies pee
Along with her doggy poo-poo smell that mixed in with her own
That he hid inside her cabinets, and underneath her throne

So Suzy, woozy, passed away, felled by that fetid smell
It was way too late, for Suzy’s sake, as she passed the gates of hell
No bells would knell for smelly Suz, but there’s something left to tell
There’s a lesson to be learned in this, so listen, learn it well

Clean up your poo, this ain’t no zoo, and curb your doggy pee
And curb means curb means curb means curb, not hydrant, sign, or tree.
Cause if you refuse to clean it up, well what is it you think?
The Gunk-man he will hunt you down, and kill you with your stink.