An Ode to Booth Babes

Come gather round geeklings and I'll sing you a song,
of a love so pure it cannot be wrong,
I sing of the ladies who make comic cons so great,
that you leave a bit early to go masturbate,
It's true that their skills lie not in their head,
they don't know the difference between Hulk Green and Hulk Red,
To want to caress them won't make you a felon,
but resist the call to grab even one melon,
It's true that their heads aren't filled with the best,
but we love the twelve pounds that live on their chest,
Without them the convention would not be the same,
but they should never write books because that's fucking lame!
They play like they love you (I'm sure that you reckon),
but that only lasts for maybe ten seconds,
To think you've a chance is a total crock,
but you should still use Masturbation Memory Lock,
They fly from warm and exotic lands,
to enjoy your leering, and hover-hands,
So take a quick pic of Power Girl made real,
but the bouncers will kill you if you cop a feel,
And heed my advice if you be nerd or geek,
you haven't a shot you 400lb freak!

You haven't got a shot

Nope, not here either

Mom?!