Ed's Mother

There is a ratio in place
that translates the lowly depths
of my Scrabble score
against Ed
into carnal acts against,
inside
and on top of,
his mother.

When he put PIG
where I had lined up
a tear-milkingly gorgeous
ENGINE, I permeated
three maternal orifices; one
for each time
my denied score
SHOULD have been multiplied.
When he swept away
my CHARITY,
I swept the books
from his desk
and did her doggy style
against the chipboard,
all the while screeching
"Why are you 100 points ahead,
you scum-gobbling blackguard?"
And to drive the principle home,
I made it my duty
to find 100 points on his mother
and report back
to the score moghul
on her favourable reactions.
I told him to go
to Hell in a box of spikes,
preferably across
bumpy terrain,
but it didn't have the same clout
as hearing Mrs P shout "AGAIN!"
which, by coincidence, he had just
aborted with QUINCE
in a devilish place.