We don't want a belly-itcher! Nor a baseball stitcher. Thrower of curves and sliders Or pourer of margaritas and ciders

Roger may or may not be a walrus. However, both roger and a walrus can be me.

I hiss and spit as I hit the ground running, Slipping and sliding, I just can't get my footing back under me I'll continue to scream until you dump water over my head Or throw a bit of flour right into my face- Jeez, and they call me roux

The answer to this riddle is neither butterfly nor ruler. But oddly enough, could have been. . .

Where dirty water flows. And your naughty thoughts grow.