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I woke in the morning, from a fun-filled night,
I'm groggy, and the sun is simply too bright,
the fuzz on my tongue only matched by the buzz
of the (censored) alarm clock in pieces on the rug.

I remembered the pizza from the soiree, so out
to the kitchen I staggered, and bouncing about
the small room with table and chairs, I found
the box was there waiting, with food not as round

as it was when my guests, like locusts, first found it
hopping like vultures, and standing around it,
but they left just enough for a bachelor's repast
but, just as I reached over to break my fast,

my hand touched a something that wasn't my food,
but had a loud shriek and a foul-tempered mood,
for my cat had leapt onto the table, and then
proceeded to feast and to gorge like my friends,

until only the crust remained of the food,
the cheese and the toppings were gone - bloody rude!