on his eye exam– He plows,
like so many big, dumb Marvel Comics
villains & all I gotta do
is side-step, and
watch his chunk of head
bounce off
the couch-cushions.
I grass-hopper on ‘im &
bite his noggin like it was
made outta chocolate.
Bill and Mike had to pull
me off.
The Blob learns his lesson–
he’s one of the flunkies
in the school Boiler-room–
and proportions himself in the
same chair or
its fraternal twin &
begins to cry as
streams of blood
yarn into
his eyes.