"A clam walked into a bar in New York City..."

Clem clam chose the bar in the cellar
(apropos don't you think, for a bottom-dweller?)

"How would you like some nice wet sand?"
said the basement barman, "We'll give you a hand,

"You can slip under it, and still hear the band,
We do our best for such handsome clams!

and we know all about your preferences here,
so no bar gull will pester to buy her a beer,

but sultry mollusks will prance on our stage
and they'll make you feel that you're half of your age,

later, dear clam, when you're feeling real fine
we'll prepare you the finest steam bath in white wine

with our VIP treatment, by the end of the night
you'll relax, and 'open up' -no longer uptight!"

these words meant to sooth, had a different effect,
our clam felt a tingle the whole length of his neck,

He suddenly experienced a strong urge to run,
he forgot about mollusks, and booze and fun,

of course he couldn't put a finger on 'it',
but a now -intense fear filled his stomach pit...

[sorry folks to interrupt your fun, but this, alas, concludes chapter one]
-jjorge