Section Three Deviant

Section Three Deviant
You Sir are strange. 
I've never met anyone like you. 
You pick up freshly fallen conkers and eat them. 
Why is that odd? 
You dip them in dog crap first. 
I've seen you kiss a cat on the lips. 
Normal? 
Not when it's been dead three weeks. 
Then there was the time you said you were from Mars. 
But your passport lists you as Venusian. 
Is it fake? 
You'll all be getting a picture of my friend, by email forthwith. 
I never sent it; he did. 
By thought alone. 
You should see the shit he sends me. 
Photos of all types of crap. 
Real turds. 
I delete them and he imprints them to my mind. 
Now I like and respect the guy. 
He's nice and polite but a tad different. 
I suspect he'd like my brother. 
He was quirky. 
Would he tolerate him eating his dinner with his feet? 
No. 
But he would like his awful Japanese singing which is his party piece, 
while wearing an old Kamikaze crash helmet. 
Just wait till you see what he does with a tattoo gun and a cactus. 
It's ever so funny! 
I wish everyone had a friend like mine. 
A Section Three Deviant. 
Totally screwed in the head, 
like the rest of us.