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President Evil Online: The net's ONLY horror n' humor political parody website!Savage Satire! NeoConspiracies! Terrifying Revelations! Obvious Truths! |
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...and as they both sank beneath the water, the scorpion said to the frog:"I couldn't help it. It's in my nature." |
The Bipolar Bowlerby D X Stone
The Bipolar Bowler had balls, you bet! He had two big balls, as big as they get! He'd roll 'em both together Whenever he bowled And the right one was all silver And the left one was all gold...
But his right hand never knew What his left hand was about... So half the time those two big balls Would cancel one another out! His style was perfectly berserk It wasn't right--it didn't work! One lane was not enough for such as he... He needed two at minimum, or maybe three!
And when he'd roll a double-gutter He'd become so utterly depressed You'd think his three best friends had died!-- He'd hold his balls up to his head and threaten suicide! But then he'd laugh and say it was a jest And just pretend... And then he'd cry and cry Til it was time for him to bowl again
He wanted to bowl in two lanes at a time-- In two leagues at a time! "Where's the crime?" he'd protest, "Just because I wanna bowl twice as much as the rest?" But more popular people prevailed-- The Bipolar Bowler was jeered at and jailed! And when he finally got out And went to get his balls back They told him that his golden bowling ball was stolen-- Sold perhaps, or painted black-- They told him that he couldn't get it back...
The Bipolar Bowler heard these words Stood stock-still, seeming stunned... Then went to get his gattling gun
All the High-Rollin' Bowlers froze in mid-frame When the Bipolar Bowler stepped onto the lanes In his street shoes! "I'll teach you!" he shouted, deranged! "I'm all better!" he cried to the crowd, "I have changed!" "I am no longer who I once was And I know it shows! I know it does!
"I repent!" he cried, "I've changed my ways! Prayer, crying, crime-- None of it pays! I'm goin' straight this time!" he said-- Then he drew fast and shot himself right in the head...
And his blood was red and green and blue And orange and yellow and purple, too... And it fountained up out of the tiny hole Like a rainbow wrapping around a soul And bursting through a coal-black cloud-- A curse came up from the beer-swilling crowd...
Then burgeoning cheers and loud applause! And then everybody got out their saws And cut him up into tiny bits Then affixed all the bits onto spiky spits And cooked him up to a crackly crunch... And then all the bowlers had him for lunch...
And he was... sweet... and sour... And somewhat difficult to devour... And even more difficult to digest Cuz after dessert, and a little rest They all soon found That none of them could seem to hold That old Bipolar Bowler down! He came right back up! With a rumbling sound!
In projectile fashion he erupted and rained! Knocking every last pin down on every lane! So in one single mythically sickening frame The Bipolar Bowler scored One single Final Perfect Game. |
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