Jack Shit

Jack was a mighty, jolly chap. It is even what he considered himself to be.
Yes, Jack was quite the fellow.
Jack fancied polka-dots on his ties, only for the wearing of this type of tie, fit his definition of what it meant to be a fellow.
Jack believed the world was his stage, that he was the lead actor and that everyone else on earth were co-stars, but only to each other.
Jack lived his life. His way. Jack was jolly, so he was allowed to, by and large, by others.
And others could never figure out why Jack was as jolly as he was, for Jack was as skinny as hunger.
In his shiny black suits, to outfit his polka-dot ties.

One time, Jack walked into a house and it had pale blue walls in the kitchen. White, painted polka-dots stood up from these walls, too. Jack bought the house and Jack lived in the house, although the kitchen had been the only room he fancied, in the entire house. Jack found the backyard was too big, too.
But Jack was jolly, anyway.
Fred, who lived next-door to Jack, was…ahem…gay. So, Fred would cut Jack's grass for Jack because Fred saw that Jack would leave his house very early, in the morning, and not come home until later, sometimes much later, in the evening. And Jack was still always wearing his polka-dotted ties, and so Fred believed that this was the way Jack tortured himself, for being...something and so, Fred, being gay (as in happy), wrote poetry about Jack.
And once a song. A song that Fred would hum whenever Jack came to say thank you to Fred, for cutting his grass. Jack would bring Fred things like relish or cartons of milk and say, "Thank you for cutting the lawn, again, Fred."
Fred thought Jack might be psychic.
Because Fred never had, in his house, whatever Jack brought over.
Fred wondered how Jack knew what was needed.
But sadly, for Fred, Jack was not gay (as in...ahem...) and so, a love story did not develop between the two men.
Of course, that is all depending on what your definition of a love story is.
But by jolly old chap, Jack's, standards, he could not continue to be a gay fellow, if he were...ahem...homosexual.
But you and I both know, love stories are a dime a dozen, but did you know sadly, also for Jack, most women who wear polka-dots are fat?