While seated on a public throne,
Relieving some distress,
My cell phone loudly called to me,
And its button I did press.

But as I did so, suddenly,
The thing slipped from my hand,
Then, did a double back flip,
Before diving in the can.

It's times like these that separate
The winners from the losers
And since my contract was brand new,
And beggars can't be choosers,

I set my paperwork aside,
And reached down in the fixture,
But was unable quite to extricate
The 'lectronics from the mixture.

An odious test awaited me,
I cringed as nose hairs crinkled,
My fumbling hand went down and down
Emerging dark and wrinkled.

I tried and tried, to no avail,
I even put a tube in,
But there was simply no retrieval
From that pool of bilirubin.

Thus, I'm standing in a winding queue,
In a cell phone store in Dover,
Explaining to the next-in-line,
My phone loss while hung over.

The moral, if there is one,
To this sordid little story,
Is never drink before you go
Or YOUR phone may go to glory!