If I were clever,
I’d quit my job today,
Enroll in university
To be an oby-gyn nurse, as they say.

I’d be top of my class
While reading the tabloids on the side,
Graduate in a few years time,
Taking it all in stride.

Then I’d calculate Angelina’s next date of birth,
And Google earth where she’d be,
I’d apply to that local hospital,
And earn the trust of those around me.

So when the princess would be admitted,
I’d be appointed to her floor,
Endear myself to her and Brad,
Having their egos beg for more.

The happy moment would soon arrive
For the triplets to be born,
I’d turn on the camera hidden inside my bra
Without the slightest hint of scorn.

“Well done Angie,”
I’d congratulate with a smile,
“Babies Larry, Curly and Moe
Make all those press conferences worthwhile.”

Then I’d clean up post-op,
Put my nurse’s cap away,
Walk out of the hospital
And jump on a plane to Banderas Bay.

I’d sell the photos to a tabloid
Whichever most wanted the scoop,
And live off the 900 million dollars I’d fetch,
Without giving a rat’s ass poop.

But poor Brangelina would be left
Shaking their plastic heads,
Thinking how that “most nicest”nurse  
Really deserved a paparazzi Oscar instead.