The end of the world would be a swingin’ good time.
That’s when jugglin’ knives would be a useful life skill.
Parlor tricks should be lethal: three-card Monte with a gun
And the survivors, they’d celebrate with a drunken quadrille.
The invading fish armies ride their narwhal mounts,
Jumping at us and biting ’til they take the hill.
The atmosphere liquefies, the ground issues lightning;
This will only be stopped by finding The One Daffodil.
He reports from this chaos, and stops himself to chuckle,
’cause blood gets funny when blood winds up there.
Stories dark and hilarious, wrenching and vivid
“And a-swarm-ed with swords!” R.E.H. would declare.
Matt’s end-of-the-world would be a great big adventure;
If he does tell that story, he’ll do it with flair.
But give him time off: give him birthday oaths now
Plus enough Scotch to down that he could drown Delaware.
Gettin’ any story ideas from the preceding, Matt? You’re welcome to them. Happy birthday. Keep thinking of the kind of madness that makes good stories, and keep writing them.
I’m glad I know you.
(And yes, for those of you Not-Matt, I figured Matt would appreciate something disturbing.)