An Apocalyptic Poem For My Friends at Procter and Gamble

Twas the night before the Apocalypse, I roamed through the house.
I was nervously worrying, I kept up my spouse.
As the laundry was washed, with my precious Tide,
Indeed I stocked up, if the Mayan calendar abides.

The kids were in bed, showered with their Ivory Soap,
I counted down the hours, “No Apocalyse,” I said, as I hoped.
While my mate…

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