Bad Poetry Vol. 2: To Hell with Justice

Just as asinine, every bit as bad as Vol. 1

The Donald

I walked into Donald Trump’s office,
and found him shaving a red-assed baboon.
He was bald and oily, and he looked startled.
The Donald, I mean. Not the baboon.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“That I’m shaving this baboon,
and that I’m going to use its hair as a toupee.”
I frowned and nodded my head ‘yes’.

“Well, that’s not it,” he said.
“I’m shaving this baboon to have sex with it.”
“Oh,” I said. “I guess I’ll leave you two alone then.”
“No,” Donald Trump said. “Stay.”

I stood there for another 47 seconds.
We made silent eye contact the whole time.
It was awkward.

I came back a few hours later
to deliver the bankruptcy papers.
As I came through the lobby
I saw the red-assed baboon leaving.
He was wearing a trenchcoat and sunglasses.
He looked ashamed.

I don’t think the money was worth it.

baboon-120409

(Pictured: A red-assed baboon. Though not necessarily the red-assed baboon I saw Donald Trump have sex with.)

Yeezus

Kanye West won the award for Best Celebrity.
He walked up to the microphone and said:
“First, I’d like to thank our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ
through who all things are possible.”

I looked over at Jesus angrily.
He kept his eyes on the TV, refusing to acknowledge my glare.
I was about to say something like “Way to go” or “Nice one, Jesus.”
But then Kanye said:
“Psyche. This is all about me tonight. Me and Beyonce.”

Jesus breathed a sigh of relief.

Next up was a tribute to flood victims
who died in the Great Asian Tsunami.
Jesus got up to get more popcorn.
I didn’t say anything.

The 4th of July

The 4th of July fireworks were beautiful.
They really took the edge off the sacrifices that would come next.
“Don’t worry,” my mother whispered in my ear.
“They’re not like us. They’re just ants.”
It was hard to think of it that way, but I got used to it.
After all, the Antpeople had landed five years ago,
and they sacrifice humans everyday.

Antpeople

(Pictured: Antpeople- Left: Shaman, Right: Garth)

Fear Itself

“We have nothing to fear, but fear itself… How’s that?” FDR asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m afraid of clowns.”
FDR looked angry.
“I’m just saying, I’m not afraid of being scared.” I said.
“I’m afraid of clowns. Clowns and polio.”
Now FDR was really angry.
“Look, write what you want,” I said. “I’m going bowling.”
I bowled a 230. It was pretty cool.

Bargain Hunting

The Wal-Mart clerk handed me the gun from behind the counter.
“Are you sure you should be selling these?” I asked.
“All the people in here look like suicide risks.”

The clerk thought for a minute and said:
“Yeah. But they’re the type that kill themselves slowly…
With Twizzlers, Coca-Cola, and poor life decisions.”
It was a fair point, I thought.

I took the gun and started aiming it.
“So what are you planning on doing with that gun?” he asked.
“Me?” I said. “I hunt people for sport.”
We both laughed.

“Seriously, though… Lock the doors.” I said.

The Bag Trap

“I’d sell my soul for a doughnut right now,” Greg said.
Nothing happened.
“Try something else! Think big!” I shouted.
“A doughnut? What are you Homer Simpson? Sell it!”
Greg took a minute and tried again.
“I’m just sooooo poor,” he moaned. “I’d do anything for money…
Even sell my soul…”

Suddenly the room filled with smoke
and The Devil appeared.
“Rrrrreeealllyyy?” he hissed.
“Now Jesus! Now!” I yelled.
Jesus jumped from behind the couch
and sprang at Satan with the bag.
But it was too late.
He was gone with a poof.
“Damn. Don’t worry Jesus.
We’ll get him next time.” I said.

Justice Is Served

When we entered the juror room,
half of us thought the defendant was innocent.
The other six thought he was guilty.

We argued until we got hungry.
When it came time to get food, half us wanted pizza.
The other six wanted Chinese food.

“I’ve got a compromise,” I said.
“If you six agree to get pizza,
then we’ll agree the defendant is guilty.”

In the end we got pizza.
And I was the best jury foreman ever.

Serving-Up-Justice

(Pictured: Pizza with a Side of Justice)

The Deer Hunter

I was hunting a deer with the new gun I’d bought at Wal-Mart.
I was about to shoot it when it shouted “Stop!”
I was like: “Whoa! Deer, did you just talk?”
It was all: “Yeah. Don’t shoot me, okay?”
I asked why not. After all, I’d come that far.

The deer answered with a question of its own:
“Why do you want to shoot me?”
“Gotta shoot something,” I said.
“Are you going to eat me?” it asked.
“Yeah, I think so.” I said.
“Am I really that delicious?”
“Well, I mean, not as delicious as cow, or chicken,” I said.

Then we both yelled in unison:
“Then why don’t you go kill a cow or chicken?!”
(I knew I’d walked right into that one.)
“Because that’s too easy,” I said “Cows and chickens don’t run.
They’re too slow and duh-.”
I was cut off by the sound of a double-barrel shotgun being cocked.

“Don’t fucking move,” a voice said from behind me.
I looked at the deer grinning.
“Who’s slow and dumb now?” he asked.
He took my gun and then tied me naked to a tree.
I just had to stand there and watch
as the cow, chicken and deer left with my stuff.
“At least we’re not gonna eat you,”
the cow said as they walked away.
“Boc-Boc- Bah- Bah-Bitch!” the chicken said.

I’m a vegetarian now.

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