I kind of wish more things died
when they bit you. Or stung you,
but - it's kind of the suckers that
bug me more than the suicidal
honey-loving hive-minded self
-defense artists.
Not people, either. I don't wish
people would die when they bit
you. That would be weird. It
would be even weirder if they
knew that would happen. I'd
feel so bad, too! What did I do
to deserve your hatred or wrath
so hard that you're dying to
bite me!? PLEASE DON'T!
I get no ego goose from meaning
so bad much to people that they'd
do
that.
I'd feel I'd have to go to the funeral.
Awkward.
What if they ask me to do the eulogy!
I'd have to get up there, wreathed in
dark garlands, a fat votive candle
gripped in each big hand and say
"Hey, I didn't even know the guy!
He bit me!" Mournful pause. "I think
I can speak for a lot of us here today
when I say Gwendopher touched us
all in some way. Is that really his
fucking name? It's he, right? He
bit like a she, but we'd already
clarified pronouns, so, when I
look out at a crowd of mourners
like this" - meaningful look -
"I feel safe saying Gwendo touched
us all. But he only bit me!"
Then, all choked up as if to one-up
all these lesser-touched beloveds and
bereaveds of the dear or oh, dear departed,
like getting bit is what makes us special
to each other, I'd step down and in grave
and stentorian stride, march right out
of the whole, somber room. Out
to the grave,
and start digging.
I barely knew the guy,
but this looks not deep enough
to me. How cringe-wince worthy
would that
be
Imagine
What is wrong with people? Why do they
ask the guy who knew the dead guy latest
and least to speak? Hoping to hit the first
-impressions jackpot from a dewy-eyed
naïve wonderdolt who everybody says
sees too much good in people? Sorry!
My first impression was pretty much teeth.
Don't want to hear my bold, unsauced,
unvarnished take on people? Ask
someone else to do the eulogies!
Or if you ask me and hate how
I get a bad job done right, well
and to-the-point?
Bite me.
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