"the boy who cried wolf"
Once upon a very strange time,
There lived a man named Gilbert Platt;
He was a proud American soldier
Serving his time out in Iraq.
But Gilbert had been raised
Shall we say, “old fashioned”:
He believed in man and wife
And hated “faggots” with a passion.
Gilbert was a Sergeant now
And looked after his troop with pride
He was friends with most of them
But feared one had something to hide.
He was a kindly young soldier
A man named Cameron Watts
His face was soft and words were kind,
He was a good man, or so they thought.
“I swear that boy is ‘off’ somehow,”
Said Gilbert to his closer friends,
“Just keep an eye on him, alright?”
His chest puffed, and face so red.
Oh, poor Cameron Watts
He did his best to do his duty
But Gilbert would follow him around
Whispering, “Like that booty?”
It started out small enough,
A joke and giggle here and there,
But a month or two into deployment
Cameron was forced to be aware:
Gilbert would walk behind him
And holler, “You’re nothing but a maggot,”
Cameron’s heart would race with panic.
“I know what you are, you faggot.”
For as long as Cameron could remember
He had wanted to serve the USA
But it was evil men like Gilbert Platt
Who made him want to run away.
After time, the teasing slowed,
And Cameron thought he must be free;
But that was only because Gilbert
Reported him to the authorities.
A man named Wesley Dawson showed up
He was veteran Officer in his day;
“There’s the cock-sucker,” Gilbert said
“Now take him far, far away.”
But Gilbert couldn’t prove a thing
For Cameron had never touched him.
Officer Wesley shook his white-haired head:
“I thought our country was past this.”
After that, the bullying doubled
Gilbert Platt was out for blood,
His Southern drawl haunted Cameron
Each night his tears made a flood.
“I’m gonna get you,” Gil would whisper,
“You don’t belong here with us.”
Cameron was too afraid to complain,
It took all his strength to appear nonplussed.
More time passed, and Gilbert grew restless,
He wanted to see Cameron suffer;
So he resorted to physical violence,
Claiming “This will make you tougher.”
With bruises on his face and arms,
Cameron suffered on in silence;
He knew that he was helpless here,
No one could relieve his grievance.
Gilbert continued to pester Dawson,
Appealing to the soldier in him:
“Surely you hate this as much as I?”
He said, “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“So what shall we do?” Gilbert moaned,
And Wesley came up with a plan:
“Come to my office at 10:00 tonight.
We’ll discuss it, man to man.”
As the clock clicked closer to ten,
Gilbert walked with the glee of a promise;
“You’ll be gone by morning,” he said
To Cameron as he strutted into the office.
“I’ve been waiting for this day,”
Wesley said with a toothy grin,
He stepped to the office door
And locked it, looking grim.
“What is going on here?”
Said Gilbert, getting apprehensive.
“You’ve tortured that boy for the last time,
Let’s see how you like being defensive.”
“I did nothing wrong,” Gilbert roared
“He’s the dirty one around.”
In a flash Wesley hit him in the face
And Gilbert fell to the ground.”
“What the hell?” Gilbert cried,
But Wesley’s voice was strangely cheerful.
“You’ve been messing with a sheep,
Now it’s time to meet the wolf.”
"I faced your kind all through my youth,
But was too afraid to speak my cause,
Now that I am older and wiser,
I can defend others, feel my claws!"
Wesley picked the boy up by the collar
And dragged him to the desk
He pinched his neck and thrust him down
Then began to undress.
“You will pay for your black heart,
And for the things that you’ve done wrong.”
Then he filled the boy’s backside
With his old and wrinkly schlong.
Gilbert cried but no one heard
As the wolf devoured him,
Tears ran down the soldier’s red face,
As he contemplated his sin.
And from that day on, for Cameron,
He never heard another peep;
It was Gilbert who walked with fear now,
And spent his nights trembling in his sleep.
For the rest of Gilbert’s deployment,
At 10pm, not a minute less or more;
He was forced into Dawson’s office:
And paid his price behind the locked door.