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Summary
When Stevie learned that the other kids at John Quincy Adams Junior High had composed a poem for him, he felt like things might be looking up. Then, they started singing it, and he abruptly remembered that the other kids at John Quincy Adams Junior High hated his living guts.
Stevie's little roger, size of a pin/If he poked a girl she wouldn't know it's in
But he can't poke at nothing fun/'Cause Stevie's little pin can't even cum!
When Stevie's swimming, look real good/Might see something 'neath his hood
Bald as a baby, skinny as string/How big's little Stevie's thing?One inch, two inch, three inch, four/That's too big, go back once more
Four inch, three inch, two inch, one/Closer now but still ain't done
Half-inch, quarter inch, eighth inch, well,/If he even has one, who could tell?
Little Stevie Rogers' little baby gun/It still can't shoot, but it's sure fun!(Steve Rogers, 14 years old and still stubbornly prepubescent, finally gets what he hopes is a clean slate. But there's a cloud to every silver lining, and he soon learns that what's really in store for him is a seemingly endless parade of humiliation and a journey of self-discovery - and not the good kind.)