We've got Lifehouse, Fall Out Boy AND Rhianna!

As I journey to the center of crime
I gander down at my left palm
and see my fingers
justified.

The blood from my ball cap
came pouring down in waves
like a Sultan with children lined up
choosing his herd of slaves.

And Mickey,
with his cinnamon twist twinkie
roars like a bull in the middle of fright.

Sometimes, when I'm alone at night
with my wet towels and ginger-snaps
I look out the sun-stained window
and spy my next-door neighbor's thunderclap.

And Ronald,
with his word dictionary
and empty box of jet-lag
comes sprinting out of the bushes like a wet canary.


Okay, it's just a rough draft, so no harsh criticism, y'all! I'm hoping to get it published in Nuts Weekly sometime in June.... that is if I can get Prof. Uncer to "okay" my final product, which will be about as tough as plucking a blood-filled tick from a wet African warlock's left nook.