Comedy Central Roast of Charlie Sheen Page #7

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Oh, man.

Well, you know, during

a very dark period in my life,

I found inspiration

by reading the great

epic poet the Iliad.

So, see, Seth,

you're not the only person

that gotten by

by taking ideas from homer.

That's a [bleep] idiot

over there.

He's a [bleep] idiot,

with that Stewie.

Okay.

All right.

Well, if I must confess,

I'm really not a roaster.

Of course, you know, everyone,

I don't like hurting people.

And, um, I'm living, you know,

more of a spiritual life now

through poetry,

and I've written...

Well, you know,

I've written, you know,

many verses

in my secret garden,

and now I'd like to share them

with a few of you here today.

Thank you, everybody.

Well, this'll be a honor,

because, um, as the bard

once said,

"All the world's a stage."

And Charlie's been booed off

them all, of course.

In this first verse,

you'll recognize the classic

a-a-b-b-a poetic structure.

There once was a old man

named Ross

whose jokes

were covered with moss.

His punch line was musty,

his premise was dusty,

I wish he'd suck on a [bleep]

exhaust, you know?

Oh.

So excuse me.

What you gonna do, Jeff?

What the [bleep]

you gonna do, Jeff?

You know, I'm--

you know, I must say, you know,

I'm rather intrigued

by your puffy, grotesque

[bleep] face, Jeff, you know?

Normally--normally

when I'm next to somebody

whose face

is grotesque as yours,

they throw in

the [bleep] towel, man.

You're a mess, man.

During your performance,

I wish I bit my own ears off.

You know?

You [bleep] suck, man.

You suck!

Yes, I wish I bit my own sh*t.

All right. All right.

- That was the best.

- All right.

Now--

no, come on, stop.

I got to do this sh*t right.

All right.

I didn't do well in school,

but I'm trying to do this sh*t.

All right.

Charlie, our next poem

was inspired

by the great Emily Dickinson,

who I consider a real goddess.

You know, whatever happened

to them hos, man?

Oh, oh, oh, I'm sorry.

But, Charlie,

let me remind you...

Something every man must know.

Once the money goes,

so does the hos.

Trust me on that one, Charlie.

Man, come on,

let's keep it real.

You know, Brooke,

Charlie had every [bleep]

disease known to man,

but still,

you [bleep] his [bleep]

before you shake

Steve-O's hand, you know?

This wife-beating cokehead

claims he's some

rock star from Mars.

Man, if he was black, his ass

would be behind bars, you know?

Which is [bleep] bullshit,

because I'm

the greatest poet alive!

I'm the greatest

wordsmith ever.

I'm the--I'm Robert Frost.

I'm--I'm Lord Byron.

My verses are impetuous,

my rhymes impregnable.

I want to eat your children!

I--I...

But, of course,

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