The following is a satirical poem. Do not send officers to my house!
REQUEST FOR A LICENSE TO KILL
by Brett Rutherford
To whom it may
concern:
If you are fool enough
to sell me a long-gun
and bullets, be warned.
I have a list, and on a day
ordained by lack of tea
and one too many migraines,
I just might, I just might.
My hypothetical
kill-list includes:
Owners of car
alarms that will not stop.
Yappy little dogs, on sight.
Dowagers
drenched in rose water
who spoil my opera experience.
Ash-spewing pretzel vendors.
Young men who
smoke cigars in public.
Hip hoppers with their stupid rhymes.
The beggar who
told me
“You have
stolen wealth
in your pockets.”
Anyone with a
law degree.
Anyone walking
a pit bull
(unless it is biting a lawyer).
The unseen
passengers of stretch limos.
Mimes, clowns, and poodles.
Any baby carriage
that emits a howling noise.
Oh, and for
good measure:
Anyone else
who asks for a license to kill.
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