A Fucking Bucket of Slime

A Fucking Bucket of Slime

I've avoided a million things in my life
Because I'm afraid of a mess.
Not messy rooms, and not messy yards,
But disorder that causes me stress.

But now I've grown older and wiser, I think,
So this problem is one I'll address.
But how, you might ask, are you going to do it?
It's a secret that I won't confess.

Remember the host of the show Double Dare?
His OCD made him obsess.
But part of his job was that bucket of slime,
An awfully messy process.

And what, you might ask, is my bucket of slime,
The thing that will cause me distress?
Still not telling, I say, it's my own little secret.
But I wink as I boldly profess.

I'm in love with the concept of freeing myself
From this longing that I should repress.
I'm throwing the rulebook right out of the window
I don't care if I make a mess.

I need a fucking bucket of slime.

Thank you to AMoveableBeast for pulling that one out of me.