Obsessively, he loved to shop—
And, yes, until he had to drop
And hit the floor—a loud ker-PLOP!
He had no interest in a cure—
You'd offer one; he would demur
And claim, “My motives, yo, are pure!”
But soon he had no cash to spend,
And even friends refused to lend.
His cards were maxed—this had to end.
And later on, celestial grace
Returned the smile upon his face:
He’d wished he’d find a shopping place
In heaven. And he did. But smells
Were awful, residents were fell.
He realized: He’d gone to hell!