The Madcap Satrap

“Bake me a cookie as big as the moon!

So that it may blot out the sun!

And I’ll nibble upon it!

Bit by bit!

Crumb by crumb!

It’ll be epic!

Of course the Emperor gets his piece, too!

That goes without saying!

My liege!

By the way!

Make sure there’s plenty of chocolate chips in there!

I want enough to go around!

Is the Emperor allergic to nuts?!

I cannot imagine so!

He’s the Emperor after all!

My liege!

Regardless!

I don’t care what it costs!

I’m made of money!

Taxes!

Slaves!

Ignorance!

I can’t wait!

For my sweet cookie in the sky!

Oh shit!

That’s right!

While you’re all at it!

Dig me a lake of milk!

So your ruler can dip his biscuit!”

The Mouthstipated MC

I got lyrical spastic obstipation

wicked bad rhyme spit inflammation

Of the mouth

The tongue

And the holy throat

Words won’t move

Through the epiglote

That ain’t the term

But it’s tough to speak

Seems I’m suffering

From sticky teeth

I’m all bunged up

Deep in my maw

And I can’t squeeze out

The poetry, y’all

Lingual paralysis

Got me dumb

I so need a word

That rhymes

With bum…

T’ain’t the season, y’all!

“Yeah! Ya wanna know what I think, ya shiver me timbers stink ass boat?!”

The rosy-cheeked red-capped long white bearded man stared way too hard at the barely moustached teen.

The teen shook his head.

The old man shook his back.

“I don’t care if ya don’t wanna hear ‘cause yer gonna hear it, ya dirty stinkin’ flyboy penis wannabe, ‘cause yer gonna.”

He spat down at his feet. A thick line of urine coloured phlegm nestled itself on his beard like a horrendous icicle.

“All ya gallant derringer-do pieces of shit sittin’ all up in yer crystal fart bravado booths on the top of donkey crap mountain are the problem. People gotta believe the sickness, ya low-bellied banana squirrel, that ya make them think ain’t there. Ya make ‘em think it don’t exist. That it ain’t real. But it does! But it is! I know. I fuckin’ know it, ya assless mouth carrot, I know it exists ‘cause I see it everyday everywhere all over all the time.”

He took a generous sip of his gallon jug of table sherry.

“I have magic goggles at my place up north and through them I can see the sickness so fuckin’ well, ya itchy Yuletide STD. It’s a fuckin’ pandemic.”

He lensed one blood-stained eye at the teen.

The teen blinked.

The fat man reared back as best his fat self could. Which was somewhat.

“Ya think I’m stupid?! Ya think I’m dumb?! Well, how ‘bout I come in there and give ya a holly jolly serious dose of humbuggery, huh? How ‘bout ol’ Santa Thick And Veiny Claus cums down yer chimney? Huh? How’d you like that? Ya Ichibod Crane headless outhouse toilet mouth. Huh? What d’ya say?”

The teen swallowed.

The jolly old elf hit the table sherry once more. Then again. And a long one after that.

“I’m a magic motherfucker, Waldo, who always knows right where ya fuckin’ are.”

The teen repressed the itch on his cheek.

The old man adjusted the sack slung over his shoulder.

“Naughty or nice, ya Tiny Tim Easter Bunny Jack o’Lantern Oscar Winning piss guzzler, I ain’t givin’ ya no lump of coal this year, no.”

He leaned in close to the bullet proof glass.

“Ya wanna know what yer gettin’?”

The teen took a breath and shrugged.

“Yeah well, just ‘cause ya been such a excellent version of a asshole and all this year—

I’m givin’ ya cancer!”

He breathed hard, his whole fat face gone beyond red, like it was a maniacal bowl of psychotic cherries.

“AND IT’S TERMINAL!!!”

The teen sighed.

“Sir, this isn’t Disneyland. It’s a car wash. And regardless, I still can’t break a hundred. Like I said before, read the sticker on the window. Now, please have a nice day.”