They call her Laser GutsMature

It's not just that her guts are like lasers,
But as well, all her farts are like tasers,
They fire through the air, corroding the hair,
From the armpits and nostrils and yes, under there,
Sharper and closer than razors.

Sometimes Evil Bob, the ringmaster,
Gives her ex-lax, to make her go faster,
And then, doubled-over, this anal-exploder,
Lets loose with a liquid that nearly errodes her,
It's a shit-spell; she's the ultimate caster.

But at least she's as slim as a trout,
With the food coming mostly straight out;
She'll never get tubby, or a little bit chubby,
And one day she might find an anosmiac hubby--
But it's something I sincerely doubt.

The End

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