LOVE LETTER TO FAUCI
I have a St. Fauci medal that I wear around my neck. I have two Dr. Fauci tattoos, one on the inside of each leg pointing upward to where my penis used to be. Let’s just say Fauci’s face is on my box of Wheaties. My heart thumps for Fauci. When I go as Fauci for Halloween I’m not wearing a cheap mask like everyone else. I’m wearing a gray wig, big ears attached with rubberbands, beady little eye glasses and I’m going to attach shoes to my knees. I’ll be in the lab coat. That’s how you’ll know it’s me. I know everything about Fauci. He’s my number one. Did you know Fauci once started a rock band called the KayGeeBees? It kept getting confused with the BeeGees but that’s not Fauci’s fault. Dr. Fauci gives me Night Fever. I ask myself “What Would Fauci Do” before I even dare get out of bed in the morning. I want to dance with Dr. Fauci. I bet he likes to Waltz. I bet he’d do the Jitterbug if you gave him some schnapps and a slice of blood sausage. I’d totally lick Fauci’s asshole. I’d get up all in there and suck out the dingleballs. Why not? Wouldn’t you? Dr. Fauci once whispered in my ear, “They wouldn’t let me play center. That’s why I became who I am.” Of course it was just my cat named Fauci purring. That Fauci likes to put its germs into mice as well. Now you’ll have to excuse me. I’m off to write a love letter to Fauci. What this? Naw. This is just the tip of the iceberg. I love Dr. Fauci.