A Valentine's Day Surprise


Alfred F. Jones had a problem, per se.

He was all alone on Valentine's Day.

The story had leaked, made its rounds through the school

Of his summer romance in the shed by the pool.

There were jokes, there were pranks, there were laughs at his expense,

And no one would take him now, not ever since

The word had been spread over and over again

Alfred F. Jones 100% preferred men.


He had no qualms admitting he was gay,

But for this little fact, his social life paid.

Then along came that Kirkland boy, smoking a fag

"He's really pretty," Alfred thought, "too bad he's a drag.

He wears those damn sweaters, each one of them green.

And he's uptight and bitchy- I'm way outta his league!"

But just when he'd decided to get up and go,

The Brit spoke up, his voice soft and slow.


"Hello, Alfred, what are you up to today?"

"N-nothing much," the boy stammered, "same as always."

Green eyes lit up and his smile grew sly

He stepped forward so close Alfred thought he might cry.

"Now, now, love, calm down. I've heard the stories, Poppet,"

He whispered, "My ass is yours if you're willing to top it."

Arthur smirked when the American blushed bright crimson red

"Don't worry your head, love, I'm fantastic in bed."