Summary: He's decided to take the chance. Maybe.
For those of you unfamiliar with these particular slang expressions: "buying the farm" refers to dying and "canoodling" refers to fooling around/petting.
Rated PG-13 for suggestive language
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To: alexeames@mcs.com
From: bobbygoren@mcs.com
Dearest Alex,
It's becoming harder to feign-
Pretending you are mundane
I find it quite daunting -
Not to get what I'm wanting
And neither you nor Dick Wolf will explain!
Quick! Stop the presses
Goren confesses!
"Earth shattering news
Eames lights my fuse
From her humor to the way that she dresses".
Since you know how to stop
A perp with one pop
It'd be nothing to scoff
At - Pissin' you off
A well placed knee to the groin and I'D drop!
But where'd be the harm
In exerting my charm?
Still it sure would be nice -
Some fatherly advice
Too bad that Dad bought the farm.
My manner's aloof
'Cause Mom instilled in me couth
But I know how to have fun
Once I've got the job done
My Dad taught me 'raisin' the roof'!
We spend so much time
Chasing down crime
Would it come to an end
If you were more than a friend?
Is the thought more ridiculous than sublime?
As with any man who is smart
You've a room in my heart
But if I lured you to bed
Would you mess with my head?
Or am I forgettin' to put the horse before the cart?
I'm presenting my case
Where I can't see your face
There are times it is hell
Reading people too well
At least an e-mail can just be erased.
In that red leather skirt
You sure disconcert
Though my mind's tried to dodge
The image is lodged -
Where I enjoy it each night for dessert
I can tango up a storm
And keep a girl warm
My hair may be thinning
But my smile is quite winning
I'm really still in excellent form
Girlfriends have been impressed
With moves of which I'm possessed
I'm not always geeky
I CAN be quite cheeky
As Irene and Lola will attest.
I've no skill with a thimble
But my fingers are nimble
My tongue can be glib
With more than ad lib
And my shoe size is not just a symbol.
I can cook a repast
That is hard to surpass
Octopus stew makes gals swoon
And dance to my tune
(Though the recipe leaves them aghast)
If we stood thigh to hips
And joined tongues and lips
Would it drive you insane?
Or would you just complain
That I put the sun into eclipse?
Warm chocolate sauce -
Would it make your eyes cross?
If I drew a fine line
From the base of your spine
Or would you consider that dross?
I'm a wine connoisseur
And a skilled raconteur
With some hot scented oil
I could make your blood boil
I've been told I'm a damn fine masseur!
If my lips were to trace
Their way 'cross your face
Would you commence to moan
Or order me home
In complete and utter disgrace?
My biggest fear
If I blew in your ear
You might start to titter
And though I'm no quitter
That would prolly drive me straight to a beer
When I was a boy
I dreamed of Helen of Troy
But while hers just launched ships
Your face would eclipse
Hers - like gold compared to some cheap alloy.
Where I'm passionate and dramatic
You're cool and pragmatic
So while I find myself yearning
To be watchin' you burning
Are the risks maybe too problematic?
Just how much do you hate
The thought of us on a date?
I won't seek to discover
How you feel 'bout my mother
If you say yes - well, I think it'd be great!
It puts you on the spot
But please give it some thought -
I find the concept delicious
Neither whimsy nor capricious
And I really believe we'd be hot!
Though not on the same page
In our feminist rage
I admire your face
While respecting your space
And I've needs I know YOU could assuage.
I am far too intense
To stand the suspense
If you consent to a date
I can't possibly wait
Till tonight for the event to commence.
So if you agree
While Deak's having his tea
We'll sneak out for a quickie
Unless you're too picky
To be caught canoodling with me!
