On the Five

The Christmas bonus never came through
so now I’m wondering
how I’ll pay for all the murders
I had hoped
would make my life more bearable.
Perhaps I could invest in some gunnery
and express my right to bear arms
all over my enemies.

Then, perhaps,
I could revenge myself
on the guys who don’t park
all the way at the corner
this leaving me with no spot.
Or put on blast those fucker-dancers
on the five
who insist that we clap
even after they’ve forced their “entertainment” all over me.

I’d love to have assassinned
those crunching creeps always next to me
at the theater
and those goddamned seating planners
and their complete disregard for personal space
and if I could get my hands
on whoever thought I didn’t need to receive the change
when my order comes to nine oh eight,
then I would probably never
be able to get my hands clean again.

But I didn’t get the bonus
which means I don’t even have the means
to buy the supplies
to effect my demand
and have everyone killed.

Oh well.
I guess it’s time
to deliver burning poop to my boss.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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