Saturday, December 31, 2011

I suck at Clue

So we're all sitting around playing Clue.  For several reasons, I'm not doing very well - I had never played the game, I was distracted, I was falling asleep, and I wasn't necessarily sober.  I wake up the next morning to find a little note from a friend in my notebook - his prose read as such:

Boo hoo for you
who'd knew you blew
so much at clue?

Here was my response:

On the subject of your poem
That you planted in my book,
There were some semantic problems,
Wha'd'ya' say, let's have a look!

This lexical abortion
Is a jumbled mass of text
Your rhythm nonexistent
And your form leaves me perplexed

You have three lines of words that rhyme,
All strung up in a row
But was there any thought involved?
I say the answer's no.

Your crude unmetered prose
Are a discrace unto your name
With writing skills this bad,
I'll bet you bring your father shame

If I had wrote this poem up,
I think I'd change a bit - 
Mostly, I'd rewrite it 
So it's not a piece of shit

Matter fact, I'll tell you what,
I'll write one here right now
It's all so plainly obvious
I need to show you how:

Boo hoo
I always knew
That Georgie-poo
Would suck at Clue
I'd even say he really blew
He'll always have this day to rue
Just like that one time at the zoo
When Steve Buscemi, me, and you
Molested a whole crew of gnu
And had our way with four emu
And sucked a little bit of goo
From quite the unsuspecting shrew
And sodomized a kangaroo- 
(We used a rusty old kazoo)
Oh man, the crazy things you'll do
When sniffing lots of airplane glue

So there you are my friend,
A little sample of my work - 
I'm sorry if I seemed just like
A big pretentious jerk

But when you go to write some prose,
I'll share with you this trick:
Just open up you mouth real wide
And suck upon my dick.

Triple-Birthday Bash

Today is the day of your birth
So celebrate well and with mirth
Go eat lots of cake
And have fun, for God's sake
If you don't, well then what's it all worth?

It sure does feel good to get laid

It sure does feel good to get laid
Now there's a fact one can't evade
It's a thrilling sensation,
Sure beats masturbation
When I get some, my day has been made

In Oxford, a gambist named Doot

In Oxford, a gambist named Doot
Chased around all the girls that were cute
They'd start with a chat
Then move back to his flat
And perform a concerto for flute

Wish, Swish, Fish, Dish

A couple goofy friends we were
A-fishing we did go
We planned to catch a million fish
And bring them back to show

Our family and friends we're not
As wimpy as we seem
(Never did we really think
We would fulfill our dream)

We drove way out to Montauk Point
And bought a bunch of beer
Our drunken fishing trip would be
The story of the year

To the ocean we embarked
To go and seal our fate
Charlie was our captain's name
And Stunt-Cock, our first mate

We sailed a little way from shore
And there we cast our line
We quickly learned that catching fish
Would take a little time

But Ronni was the first to feel
A nibble from the sea
She set about to reel it in,
A project it would be

When finally it flopped on board
We got to take a look
Upon the creature first to be
Enticed onto our hook

We celebrated heartily
And drank a round of beer
And cast our lines back to the sea,
Success, we knew, was near

It wasn't long at all before
Another fish was caught
One by Gio this time 'round,
Discouraged, we were not

Gio reeled the fish in first,
Then Stunt-Cock slit its throat,
And cast the bleeding fish into
The hull under our boat

And then we hit a span of time
When not a fish would bite
We sat and soaked the perfect day -
The weather, a delight

The sky was clear, the sea was blue,
The lighthouse to the west,
A gentle breeze was blowing through
The hair upon my chest

Then suddenly I felt
A little snag upon my line
I hunkered down into my seat
To reel on in that swine

And as I just begin my battle,
Noah lets a cry -
It seems that he had caught a fish at
The same time as I!

The two of us, we took our seats
And started in our fight - 
It seemed that reeling in these fish
Was gonna take all night

Yet soon enough our fish were caught
And brought onto our boat
And even though they're decent sized,
They weren't worth the gloat - 

'Cuz scrawny little Andrew
Caught the biggest fuckin' bass
The thing was huge, It could have kicked
The other fish's ass

Initially, it started out
quite like the standard fare
But after struggling we deduced
A monster was out there

The fish was fighting crazily
While tugging to and fro
But Andrew's nerve was steely,
It was quite the bold tableau

The epic fight 'tween man and fish
Was playing out full force
But man was soon to triumph,
It was just matter of course

And when that giant fish did breech
The surface of the sea,
We all began to cheer aloud,
A conquest it would be

Andrew finally reeled it in
And Stunt-Cock held it high
It truly was a mammoth fish,
Nobody could deny

Andrew was exhausted,
And collapsed upon a bench
We fetched him quick an ice-cold beer
We thought his thirst we'd quench

But yet that left one lonely fishless
Friend upon our boat
To catching fish, the rest of David's
Time he would devote

But even as high spirited
As Dave could truly be,
It didn't seem like any fish
Would come out from the sea

Then Ronni caught another fish;
A total freak event!
But sadly this had only caused
Poor David to lament

The night was drawing ever near
The sun was setting fast,
We looked under the deck to see
The fish we had amassed

But then we heard a shriek of joy,
A squeal of pure delight
Dave had finally caught a fish,
His mission for the night

So all of us now having caught
More bass than we could eat
Rejoiced and drank a swig of beer
To celebrate our feat

Charlie turned the boat around
And headed back to shore
As captively we watched the sun sink
'Till it was no more

And in the orange twilight
Of our Montauk fishing day
We watched our first mate Stunt-Cock
Turn our fish into fillet

We piled all into the cars
And headed back towards home
Bringing to a quiet end
This half-baked fishing poem

A couple goofy friends we were
A-fishing we had went
A grand time had by all on our
July the Third event 

Opening Ode

What to do in this little book?
Use it as a writing nook?
A place for thoughts to flow around?
When quirkiness and whit abound?
Perhaps to draw a thing or two…
Maybe that is what I’ll do…
Or fill it up with shitty prose
About how love is like a rose…
Or lyrics to some sappy song
To which no one will sing along.
Or maybe with a raunchy joke
Or stupid words some asshole spoke.
Well here’s my feeling overall
Concerning what I’m going to scrawl:
It doesn’t matter what I say,
No one will read this anyway.