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Rather pleased with the friendly reception I got
I continued advancing my devious plot,
"Dude, you say you ain't ticklish, but I think it's rot
Cuz I'm telling you now - f*, your barefeet are HOT!"
The Dean's face was immobile and colder than steel
So I wriggled a finger and took a quick feel,
In a trot to a spot on his sensitive heel
Though the foot didn't flinch I could tell it was real;
Then I tickled his arch, but his foot didn't flinch
No, not even so much as a half of an inch,
It seemed clear that the Dean thought he'd win in a cinch
So I gathered myself for a bit of a pinch;

"Why keep fighting it down with that unconcerned air
If you gave in and laughed, why the h* should you care,
Now I'm sensing agreement from all through my square
Feet so big and so awesome should ALWAYS be bare;"
Then I took to his soles with the tickles I'd planned
All my fingers aquiver with joy as they fanned,
Though his feet didn't twitch, I could tell it was grand
His soles d* nearly begged for the touch of my hand;
And I wondered again what would give me the thread
How to unlock the laughter he'd trapped in his head,
And help bare tickled feet replace decorous dread
So I leaned a bit closer and smiled as I said;

"I don't often get piggies to tickle so big
And yours feel like they wanna be dancin a jig,
By now everyone here would be flipping his wig
So why keep on pretending you don't give a fig;"
Though he looked like he'd heard a most terrible joke
And he said not a word, the Dean's tootsies both spoke,
I could sense that inside he was quite a good bloke
And I'd have a grand time once his mighty will broke;
Though all sign of reaction was kept deep inside
Not a trace of a laugh, despite all that I tried,
But I suddenly knew, despite all he denied
All my praise of his barefeet had fed the Dean's pride;