An Ode to Hotel Nookie

The following poem was inspired by an infamous hotel stay I had several months ago.

Ahem...

Monkey Lovin
aka my Visit to Charleston

Is the manager aware
that above me is a pair
of most rabid monkey lovers
makin' whoopie without care?

Seems Room 308 is hosting
quite a freaky jungle toasting
celebrating all the earthly pleasures
that two monkey mates could share.

Are they needing Robitussin?
What could cause that nasty fussin'?
All those whoops and barks of rapture
make me wonder at the cause.

And so when the loving's ended
and my ears are most offended
should I run upstairs and offer them
a round of awed applause?

Friends, there is no earthly reason
why two monkies well in-season
should have chosen to conduct coitus
in the Wingate's halls.

The compulsion was too mighty
to ignore, and so quite rightly
I picked up the phone to call the clerk
to kvetch of cardboard walls.

But as monkey lovin' ended
I became much less offended
for the sounds now emanating were
quite different from the first.

Monkey One remarked with candor
that she'd gotten quite a gander
at a side her monkey lover
had not shared with her before.

His frightening ululations
gave his lover palpitations
She was sure she'd never known a man
so vigorous and strong.

But his manly demonstrations
brought on violent perspiration
and the odor was enough to make
the girl chimp move along.

So dear monkies, if you're thinking
of enjoying public linking
give a moment's thought about the folks
you force to listen in...

When you choose to knock da boots
know your neighbors give a hoot.
They are made unwilling partners
when your hotel walls are thin!