Rhythm & Rhyme

Some-one told me, that-my-written poetry

Is hard to read and hard to get the rhyme

So I took a quick glance, a punctuation dance

And decided I would help them this one time

It’s LETters, you see, that make UP my poetry

But the rhythm might be hard to figure out

So I’ll try my very best, and unLIKE all of the rest, I’ll count the syllables and make them cast no doubt

For when writers write a rhythm

There’s a certain algorithm

That we stick to because IF we don’t we die

And that would really suck

Because I’d BE like “what the fuck?”

We followed every rule and every lie

So here it goes again

I hope you BROUGHT your own ink pen

But if you didn’t, stress the cap words as you try

Work in Progress

Someone told me “Find a wife and settle down”

I looked at them and said “Okay, why don’t we talk and break this down”

They cleared their throat and said “Ahem. Here is the righteous path of man”

I cleared my own and said “Hold on. What if I’m not like all all of them?”

They scratched their head and said instead, “But this is how we all do things”

I looked at them and, with a grin, said “We also used to bow to Kings”

I told them that the way things were are not the way that things are now

I told them that some people need to do things before settling down

Just because a person doesn’t have a kid or a big house

Does not mean that the person is a lessor one without a spouse

Sometimes people really want to do things they’re remembered for

That doesn’t make them magically some kind of monster to abhor

So cool it with “You’re single man, what on earth is wrong with you?”

Because it’s so annoying when you’re judgement gets the best of you

Understand that people are dynamic and don’t fit a mold

‘Cause if you don’t so help me God, I’ll smack you as my beer, they hold

Sleepenstein

Since all I ever do is sleep, a new word I shall give

Replace each word with “sleep” I will, instead of “life” or “live”

We do not have much time to waste, my point, do not contort

So sleep each day as if your last, because our sleep is short

I hate it when peeps waste my time, it’s not like it comes cheap

So get out of my way, alright? I have a life to sleep

Actually I take that back, I meant a sleep to sleep

When Franken’s doctor brought me back, he said “IT IS ASLEEP!”

A Turn of Events

Once upon a time a lovely maiden did her chores

She cooked and cleaned and washed and dried and wiped down all the floors

And though her Lord looked down at her, ironically this man

Would force himself upon her because when you’re Lord you think you can

He used her for his twisted games, he thought it was alright

Sadly she just let it be, so she could feed her son at night

And so it went for years and years, till finally one day

Her son grew up and saw the truth, saying that “this man must pay”

Despite his mother’s cries and pleas, the son could not forgive

He told her she deserved much more, this was not a way to live

His mom, you see, quick to agree, would never punish him

Her heart was her worst enemy, enabling Lord to live in sin

So the son approached the man, he stood much taller than Lord did

As the Lord said “hello boy, you’ve grown so much since just a kid”

“I know,” son said, “it must be strange, to to be on the receiving end”

“Of the games you play at night, I bet your wife won’t comprehend”

“Won’t comprehend the things you do, to satisfy your appetite”

“I can’t imagine how a person does this and then sleeps at night”

“At least it doesn’t matter now, because I give what is deserved”

“What’s that,” you ask? “To be frank, I really hate to touch a nerve”

“But since we’re here I will be clear, this might begin to sting a bit”

“I’ve wanted this for oh so long, because you’re such a piece of shit”

“It’s my turn now, so turn around, this will not end quick I must say”

“This won’t be fun, and when I’m done, this broomstick will make sure you pay”

We’re All Just Bros

Broseph Stalin, communist, said capitalism, no more

Hipbropatamus in water and he’s swimming to the shore

Winter clouds above and the bro began to pour

She said to put this down so I’ll just bro it on the floor

Shopping all in silence I must tipbro through the store

I’ll bro through basic training when I join the marine corps

A garden bro will tend my crops, my harvest you’ll adore

Scarlet Brohannson takes a bow, and the crowd shouts out “encore!”

I locked the house so to bro in, here’s keys to the back door

Flamingbros at the zoo are cute, you know we all adore

But buffabros and the rhinbros are ugly, an eyesore

I do not bro if I will have the answer you look for

So do not ask this bro again – your question, it’s a bore

Distressed Damsels Need No Knights

A lovey dame was so offended

At this ball I just attended

Because her partner had extended

A most presumptuous invite

Apart for almost that whole party

She was angry he’d been tardy

When leaving I had laughed so hard, she

Made a fool of him tonight

He ignored his lateness, tried to play nice

She didn’t buy it, only danced twice

But champagne causes men to roll dice

That should never see the light

He shouted as he hailed a carriage

“You’re all invited to our marriage!”

As we all watched that dame disparage

And slap with all her might

She must have fought before, had training

For when his balance was regaining

She gave us the most entertaining

Show: a one round fight

It lasted less than one full second

Likely killed him, we all reckoned

With one right hook, as recommended

She sent him on his final flight

Applause erupted, I was beguiled

For then she looked at me and smiled

Now here I lay, our clothes all piled

My new damsel’s more a Knight

You Might Be A Writer If…

“All real writers are published”

Hang on a second, that statement’s wrong!

What say you of bloggers, huh?

Can poets not come tag along?

“Ha! We scoff with tilted heads”

“Real writers do those on the side”

“We know that true art lies in sales”

“For money validates our stride”

“So please, a blogger? Some stupid poem?”

“You think that these can pay the bills?”

“Don’t make me laugh, you amateur”

“Just the thought gives me the chills”

Bite your tongue, pretentious fool!

It’s not for funds, why true arts made

Passion, love guides pen and brush

‘Tis by-product, when we get paid

And cut! Fake convo ends as Matt chimes in

On wars of words, “label” affairs

I cannot help but ask them this:

WHO THE FLY’D FUCK EVEN CARES?

 

Just shut up and write, you dweebs.

 

You Can’t Spell Fame Without Me

Sure a catchy title, no?

I mean its kind of right

Said before, I’m sure it’s so

But came to me tonight

 

Some day an agent reading a

Submission (one of mine)

Will finish it and be like “Shit!”

“This author I must sign!”

 

But then the intern (her name’s Pam)

Will come say “Time for lunch!”

As the agent says “Oh damn,”

Sets me back in the bunch

 

Getting back, she sits right down

And scratches her blank head

Says “Where was I?” with a frown

Then starts to tweet instead

 

Yes it funny, though its true

This tale that came to be

The future first is said like “few”

And fame, ends with a “me”

No Pun Intended

I start and I end with a shower, all nude

Turned on is the water, so set is the mood

I put on my old socks, ever so slowly

I should take them to church cause my socks are so holy

But before this day starts, I must say that this chap

Shall first drop a deuce, ‘cause he don’t give a crap

Flip a coin in the well, but it wasn’t well-spent

Matchbox 20 disc broke; the damn album got Bent

Wrapped a fish in some tin, but my main course was spoiled

Too long did it cook, dinner plans were all foiled

Felt so lonely today, I bought some stock shares

Now I have company, so pull up some chairs

My last girl couldn’t see straight, she was sadly cross-eyed

We broke up when I heard she sees men on the side

The ex before would come home shouting, loud as a drum

When asked why she said “sorry, I scream when I come”

The girl before her wanted me strong, fit and stout

When I said no to the gym, things just didn’t work out

Once saw a suicide bomber eat so much on the road

When asked for dessert he said “I’m ‘bout to explode”

Saw a one-legged hitchhiker, so sad and so thin

I stopped on the spot, said “come on man, hop in”

Then saw this girl’s chest that looked swelled with disease

Turns out she’d been stung by a nest of boo-bees

My sis said the number of bad jokes I tell: myriad

“Your PMS jokes are not funny, Matt: period.”

Way down in a foxhole, I wrote poems before sleep

If I say so myself, my war writing was deep

A misunderstanding got me fired, I’d called right at dawn

Asked my boss can I please come in late? He said “yeah Matt, dream on”

They say French fries are French, but this one press release

Said “actually the truth is they’re all cooked in Greece”

My childhood Priest had two jobs under control

Fixing shoes on the side, he heeled so many soles

Saw Peter Pan as a kid but could not understand

How he flew all the time and how he’d never land

But that wasn’t my only dilemma, I say

If I knew why Earth rotates, it would so make my day

Damn – I must go now, big brother’s listening, you see

Those jerks are beginning to really bug me!

Editing Sucks (but Marriage is Great)

I’m wedded to Words, yes I’m smitten with love

But like any such marriage, we fight

Sometimes it gets tense, and push comes to shove

As they shout, “Don’t give me your bullshit tonight!”

Of course that’s unfair, Words just don’t understand

Just like any ole husband or wife

Its worked to the bone, this here writing hand

Far too much for that “editing” life

Why can’t Words just listen, do what I say

And tidy things up on their own?

I’m only one man, and its been a long day

Must I do so much work all alone?

As carpal tunnel sets in, Words just lounge and relax

Can’t even say “Good job today, Matt”

Oh its cool Words, I got this, ya’ll just lay on your backs

Like I’m hitched to a fat fucking cat

Hell, I even invent those new friends that you like

“Words Night Out” exists ‘cause of ME

The least you could do is be more sportsmanlike

And help edit occasionally

I mean how hard can it be? Just shuffle your feet!

One step and that loose screw is tight

My spelling is solid, my grammar’s is neat

Its not like it’ll take you all night

But whatever I guess, I know they think I overbear

I truly feel marriage is great

I just get so worried they might have an affair

With that douchebag songwriter I hate

 

 

 

 

 

The Creep

It puts the lotion on its skin

Or else it gets the hose again

“What a minute, why’d you stop?”

“My hairs so matted, it’s a mop!”

“Turn the water on again”

“I’m not done bathing, creepy friend”

Hold on, what? I thought that I –

“Shut up, dude! It’s time to dry”

“Now turn the water spigot off”

“So I don’t drown or start to cough”

But I’m a killer, aren’t you scared?

“Bro, I think you are impaired”

“The only thing you need to do”

“Is fix your fucking dad issue”

“I get it, sure, that you weren’t loved”

“But hands are better when they’re ungloved”

“Don’t hide the shit that you’ve been through”

“I know your pain, I’ve felt it too”

“Don’t take your anger out on us”

“Because some jerk destroyed your trust”

“How bout you look inside instead?”

“And realize that we all have bled”

Well this is awkward; that makes sense

So tell me how to recompense

“Come here then, I’ll show you how”

“This hatred you must disavow”

Okay then, I guess I’ll quit

Wait, I won’t fall for this dumb shit

Shut up please; now where was I?

Oh yeah thats right: time to die

This is Ass Whip Hop

Spare a moment of your time and talk to me objectively

This elephant must be addressed, its been standing there rejecting me

The topic of discussion was created here specifically

You guessed it: rap culture; let’s review it scientifically

 

I needn’t say for we all know that music molds and shapes our mind

So first let’s talk about how rap is so…refined

After all, doesn’t everyone like money, cars, and clothes?

And let us not forget what’s most important: hoes

 

Just hear me out before I twist your panties in a wad

I admit that not all rap is like the oppo word of God

But let’s be real and speak in generalities

So let’s please cut the shit and drop the useless, dumb formalities

 

In fact hold on I’ll tell you what, let’s try something on the run

Let’s take a shot at mimicking the rap game, don’t that sound fun?

Ahem. Give me a moment to prepare my new mentality

After all I’m new to this, I must change my personality

 

That’s right you bitches listen up, this white boy rap’s begun

These tasty bars will burn so hot, like wagyu steak that’s overdone

All this coming off the top, the lid is popping off

So much fire on this page you’d think I threw a Molotov

 

This is not hip hop, this is ass whip hop

Let’s switch the rhymes up on this text

Take a breath, collect yourselves

You’ll need the air for what’s up next

 

Hold up Matt the fuck is this? I think the flow just changed somehow

That’s right ma-fucka I switched it up this game is run by rhythm now

I hope you laced the Jordans on cause the pace is picking up ya’ll

I’ll tell you what just numb your lungs, here take this alcohol

Don’t be shy bitch take it all, open the throat wait that’s what she said

Aw come on now you know I’m playin, or maybe not cause that’s good head

There we are don’t that feel nice? These fifths can always heal the pain

I hope you brought your parka too, the forecast says its bout to rain

 

Actually fuck it I think this rap is done

I think we had a solid quarter Asian run

Oh, before I forget just one last thing:

No hoes we’re harmed in this production

They’ve been chillin’ in my bed…for accidental reproduction

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lighten TF Up

I’m on a lifelong mission, I’d be remiss not to admit

But every now and then I say enough of all this shit

Why don’t I let my fixed hair down and pour myself a drink?

You know what? Let me take that back. I’ll pour several, I think

 

Tonight I shall forget the world and everything within

Call a timeout on my quest: tonight let’s live in sin

I mean come on, is that so wrong? I don’t claim to be St. Paul

Sometimes a guy just has to stretch his manhood, after all

 

And on that point, can I please ask just how the saints do it?

No pun intended but life must be so hard; the celibate

Anyway I should digress, the details you don’t need

Point is, to stay sane we must sometimes feed our greed

 

The thing that matters most is to do it with respect

Be honest with intention for your actions cause effect

Never lie and lead folks on to satisfy desire

Cause if you do, and you believe…eternity is filled with fire

 

But more than that, its just not right

For they have feelings too

And son of a bitch I just realized

That this poem is preachy too

 

Where were you guys on that one, huh?

America Then Vs. America Now

Lemme take you to an age before the days of Netflix

A time before you and I, when people made their own bricks

That’s right you pussy boys and girls – “Hold on a sec what year is this?”

One fucking seven, mother fucking seven six

That was the year that we stood and said, E-NUFF

“Take your shit back to Brit, this weak ass tea and other stuff”

“Hold on hat, you don’t like that? Go on get out your handcuff”

“I’m sick of all your taxes rather jump off Martha Vineyards bluff”

Waaaaait boyz, come on give me a break

The world’s been sleeping soundly now it’s fine’ly bout to be awake

Haven’t you heard? Healthcare should be a human right

Or could I be wrong? If so I don’t know why we fight

We’re changing the world, we stand here holding up our fists

All of you girls, get up and shame misogynists

We don’t like a President who judges people by their skin

Thank the God that we don’t think is real that none of us are Indian

Hooooold up, this isn’t what we fought for

We’re so ashamed at what became we’re rising out of Rushmore

It’s obvious that all you dweebs are needing this here crash course

So thank God you’re talking to the fucking eagle-blooded source

This. Isn’t. What. We. Had. In. Mind.

All. You. Do. Is. Bitch. And. Whine.

Man the fuck up, grow some balls and make this country free again

Turn off your TVs and fucking re-learn how to reason, men

Um, excuse me please, but you just sound like a big jerk

America today is different, watch us dance and watch us twerk

So get used to this new way of the world and new reality

How dare you scoff at human rights and my gender mentality

Meanwhile, overseas…

HA! Look! We’ve got them right where we want

They’re so accused of being used they can’t tell New York from Vermont!

Now it’s time to move while they have this dumb discussion

We shall crush them all with haste and make these morons Russian!

Muahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!

Pussies.

The Ward & the Bone: 13

“Bites of the Round Bowl!! Please, lend me your ears.”

Standing valiantly on the balcony of Cage Spamalot’s Keep, Grr Barker tells the entire Realm of the quest he will embark on, with no puns intended.

“Realm!” He shouts, “I shall commission my bravest, most chivalrous Bites to accompany me on this epic quest! We will weather the challenges that lie ahead. No obstacle shall stand in our way as we courageously mush our way to the artifact of old; the fabled Excalibone!!”

“HUZZAH!!!!” The Kingdom roars before him. “LONG LIVE GRR BARKER!!!”

“Calm yourselves, constituents,” Barker howls as he raises a paw. “Yes, this quest shall bring much glory to our Kingdom, but we mustn’t forget the severity of the threat which lies to the East! My advisors have informed me that there still remains a Phelyon, by the name of Corgin La Fey, who wishes to reclaim our freed lands!!”

“NAY!!!” The crowd shouts, fully in support of their leader. “You must vanquish her!!”

“Yes!” Barker asserts. “And vanquish we shall!! But first, I must unearth the fabled weapon of old!! For without Excalibone, I might as well be riding into a sea of Jellyfish!”

“But wait, my Liege!” A random peasant shouts from the crowd. “What do jellyfish have to do with this narrative? Alas, they don’t even remotely relate to the topic at hand!”

“Aye,” Grr Barker barks, “your words are true. Jellyfish are not, in fact, related to this quest at all. But alas! We shall recover Excalibone and send Corgin La Fey back into chasm from whence she came!!!!” He howls, awoo’ing at the rising Moon.

“AWOOO!!!!!!” The crowd repeats, even though many of them are not Kaynine. “Tomorrow,” Grr Barker shouts, “our quest shall begin!!”

The Ward & the Bone: 8

The morning after Grr Barker’s cryptic meeting with The Lady of the Shake, he rises early to greet the new sun. Trotting over to the stone window overlooking his Kingdom, he squints his eyes as the light meets his emerald, green eyes. His thoughts bark the question of whether he is worthy of such a quest, and he internally wonders if he is suited for the job. Before his mind has a chance to answer, he is interrupted by the gravest of news.

“Grr Barker!” A rat-servant hysterically shouts after climbing the many stairs to his Cage. “You must come! Your father has taken ill!”

“My…my father?” Grr Barker asks, immediately concerned.

“Yes! Please, follow!”

Scurrying off into the spiral staircase of the chamber tower, Grr Barker trails the rat-servant across the Castle Cage’s halls until they finally reach his father’s Kingly chambers.

“Father!” Barker howls as he sheds a tear from his glistening green eye, “please tell me you will persevere!”

Weakly lifting his head, Toother Mansbestfrienddragon takes his paw and wraps its around his son’s shaggy neck.

“My beloved Barker…cough cough…y…you must see that our Kingdom r…cough…remains. You must recover that which I have lost. My…my son…you must recover Excalibone!” The King manages to say, before his spirit sadly fades beyond the Veil.

“FATHER!! NO! AWOOOOOOOO!!!!” Grr Barker howls in pain. “How did this happen?!” He asks the surrounding servants and dogtors, suddenly displaying an expression of fury and hatred.

“My liege,” the King’s primary dogtor says, “we believe he was poisoned. His death was far too sudden for this to be a conventional illness.”

“Who is responsible?!” Grr Barker shouts, wanting answers.

“We believe it was the work of Corgin La Fey, my liege!” A tiny rat-servant who has been watching from afar squeals in a high-pitched voice. “There have been rumors that she lives on, and has sworn revenge against the Bone!”

Hearing this, Grr Barker slowly raises his head, looking up at the coat of arms mounted above his father’s chamber.

“She will be ended for this.” He snarls with a deep, sinister growl. “That wicked Phelyon will know my wrath. SERVANTS!” He barks. “Prepare my armor! Tomorrow, we ride!!”

Watching, as always, from the shadows, Squirrelin overhears the new developments. Knowing that the prophecies have now been put into motion, he retreats to his study to research what must be done.

To be continued…

The Ward & the Bone: 7

After the seventh hour of the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year of the seventh century of the seventh Age, the brave Bite, Toother Mansbestfrienddragon, overcame his enemies. He led a valiant assault upon the entire Realm, ousting the Phelyons and their evil regime. This is common knowledge, and their story is told in halls across all the Land.

However, a far more secretive element of the story exists. An element, should it be widely known, that would open the Kaynine’s new Kingdom to challenge, and contest. This element is the very weapon that enabled Toother to defeat his powerful foes…Excalibone! The fabled blade that contains unspoken magical properties, allowing its wielder to own the battlefield with the mightiest of presences.

Much to the dismay of Toother’s campaign, the legendary Excalibone was lost after the final battle between the Phelyons and Kaynines. Thus, the knowledge of such a powerful artifact was buried, deep, deep, underground by the furious digging of Kaynine paws. The scrolls detailing Excalibone’s last known whereabouts were buried way beneath the Catabones of Cage Spamalot, far out of reach of any who may remember its influence.

Now, the Kaynine’s face their greatest test since the War of the Realm. They must recover the weapon that they so carelessly lost, or helplessly face Corgin La Fey’s reinvigorated armies of the East!

The Ward & the Bone: 6

The evening following their arrival to Cage Spamalot, The Lady of the Shake and her honorable Bites have settled into their guest quarters, much appreciating the fluffy, soft floor beds Grr Barker and his troupe has made available. As is customary, a Grand Feast is held in honor of the regal guests, with minstrels and jesters providing song and entertainment while the nobility discuss matters of state.

“He is Brave Grr Slobin, Brave Grr Slobin!”

Dancing atop an empty table, a small crew of minstrels begins singing the same song they sung as they approached the Cage earlier in the day.

Slightly under the influence, Grr Barker stands and hoists his silver goblet-bowl to request something else.

“Minstrels!” He barks loudly. “Play a song honoring the Kaynine’s who conquered the Kingdom!”

This request catches the attention of the entire court, as the events that led to the Kaynines’ triumph have been long debated amongst the land. Opting to please their host, the minstrels pick a tune that honors Grr Barker’s father, the current King of the Realm.

“Yes! We shall play the tale of Toother Mansbestfriendragon!”

Taking their positions, the minstrels begin singing the ballad that honors Grr Barker’s father and his campaign to liberate the Realm from the Phelyons oppressive rule.

“They came from nowhere, these Kaynines, and when they saw the harsh Phelyons, they drew their bones, and threw their stones, and now the Realm has grown and grown! With treats they came and fed the land, upon the Phelyons sad last stand, the Bites of Round Bowl, then unknown, gave peace by wielding EXCALIBONE!!”

As the melody booms throughout the Hall, Grr Barker leans back, proudly watching the court revel in the victorious song. Noticing a subtle poke in his side, he turns to see what has approached him as the rest focus on the continuing ballad.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking down at the rat-servant who has poked him.

“Please, my liege, The Lady of the Shake beckons you.” The servant says, bowing her head in respect.

Intrigued, Grr Barker leans over to a still-enamored Grr Pantsalot.

“Grr Pants, keep an eye out on the festivities. I must answer this most cryptic of dispatches. I leave you in charge of the festivities.”

“Of course, my Liege.” Grr Pantsalot barks. “I shall oversee the feast with honor.”

Satsified that he’s placed the Feast in a good boy’s hands, Grr Barker exits the chambers as he follows the rat-servant. Making their way through a winding tunnel of underground catabones, they arrive at a secret chamber previously unknown. Waiting patiently is the Lady of the Shake, whom Grr Barker watched walking through his Cage doors just hours before.

“Greetings, Grr Barker.” The Lady says, her soothing voice echoing through the underground halls. “I have learned much about you over the past several months.”

Not knowing what kind of encounter this will be, Grr Barker responds with a neutral tone.

“Is that so, Lady? Pray tell, how have you come upon such knowledge? Our Kingdoms are united, yet separated. How has my liking been passed along to your lands?”

Casually strutting forward, the magnificently beautiful Lady of the Shake walks down from the elevated stone she is standing on.

“Such knowledge has not been obtained conventionally, my dear Prince. It has come to me in a vision, one which overwhelmed me when I shook off the bathwater the other day after I bathed.”

”Tell me of this vision, m’Lady.” Grr Barker says, kneeling.

“I exited the tub, Prince, whereupon a towel was placed upon me. As I dashed into the nearest blanket and comforter to maniacally shed the moisture that plagued my fur, I saw you. I saw you holding the fabled Excalibone, standing tall amidst a ferocious battle. You were fighting the last of the Phelyons who had so desperately launched an assault on your Kingdom!”

Hearing of the Lady’s vision, Grr Barker gasps.

GASP!

“This…this cannot be so!” He barks, taking a step back. “My father ousted the last of the Phelyons! It is known!”

“No, Grr Barker.” The Lady says. “Evil still remains in the Realm, and it is your destiny to destroy it. You must dispatch yourselves and find the fabled Excalibone! There is no other way.”

Knowing The Lady of the Shake never speaks untruth, Grr Barker pauses a moment, and takes a deep breath.

“Yes. I shall find it, m’Lady!” Turning to the rat-servant who led him, he instructs her to scribe a dispatch. I call upon all the Good Boys and Bites of the Round Bowl! Gather! We have a quest!!”

To be continued…

The Ward & the Bone: 5

The morning following the magnificent feast of the finest soft foods, the Bites of the Round Bowl are beginning to wake up, clumsily trotting into the Breakfast Chamber where they are all fed the day’s first meal. As the last of their troupe, Grr Sleepsalot, finally enters the chamber, the soft sound of music can be heard echoing through the castle cage’s iron windows. Jolting up to see who approaches Cage Spamalot, Grr Barker rushes to the window to look down upon the minstrels and small group of honorable Bites who have arrived to join in on the season’s festivities.

“He is brave Grr Slobin, brave Grr Slobin,” the minstrels can be heard, melodically singing a ballad honoring one of the troupe. “He fights, he jousts, he marks, he pees, and all the lovely ladies love him for Grr Slobin lives to please!” The song continues.

Excited to welcome the new arrivals, Grr Barker turns to face his constituents, excitedly shouting for them to prepare yet another day of games.

“Grr Pantsalot!” He howls, opening his arms. “Please send a dispatch to my Lady Playpenuivere! Tell her to send her finest bitches to welcome Grr Slobin and the other Bites accompanying him. They shall enjoy the regal hospitality that Cage Spamalot is renowned for!”

Finishing the final laps of his breakfast bowl, Grr Pantsalot leaves his seat and stands tall, energetically saluting his Prince.

“Of course! Lady Playpenuivere shall receive the message post-haste!”

Trotting off, Grr Pantsalot exits the building.

“So who all has come?” Grr GoodGalihad asks. “I know we were expecting many of the Bites to join us for the Games, but I questioned the courage of some. Who thinks they have what it takes to compete?”

Taking another look out of the Cage’s window, Grr Barker peers down to try and identify the other Bites.

“Hmm. I believe I see Gercival, who has not yet been Bited yet. He has not yet earned our title. And is that…yes! Roars the Younger is among them. Let’s see, who else…Grr Scratchalot, of course, he’s always tagging along. I see Grr GraitDane, always noble and chivalrous. And…no. Can it be? Is…is that The Lady of the Shake? Surely my eyes deceive me.”

Squinting, Grr Barker focuses his gaze on the ephemeral, eloquent Kaynine that is being carried into Cage Spamalot by a group of rat servants.

“It is! The Lady of the Shake is among their party! Good boys,” Grr Barker says, aggressively about facing to give his instructions, “we must prepare our finest bed and adornments! We have a Goddess among us!”

Hastily scrambling to make sure the welcome party is adequate for such an arrival, the court adjourns, getting to work on their tasks at hand.

Watching from the shadows, Squirrelin holds his tongue as the naïve troupe of Kaynines prepare for their fun and Games. He knows he must come up with a good reason for his most benevolent of Princes to see reason. Retreating to his study, he absorbs himself in the scrolls and prophecies of yesteryear. He must learn what is to transpire if he is to combat fate itself.

To be continued…

The Ward & the Bone: 4

Days after the Games, the valiant Prince Grr Barker, first in line for the Bone, parades around the halls of Cage Spamalot, the stone castle which the Bites of the Round Bowl call home.

“I suppose you all witnessed my triumphant victory the other day?” The prince howls, his chest puffed out in pride.

“Aye, you were brilliant in the Joust!” His close friend, Grr Pantsalot, barks as he tries to catch his breath.

“Why are you always panting, friend?” Grr Barker asks his companion, placing a paw on his back.

“I cannot say, my Liege.” Grr Pantsalot pants. “I simply feel as if I’m constantly out of breath.”

“I see,” Grr Barker says, turning to face the other Bites of the Round Bowl. “Come, Good Boys!” He shouts. “We shall dine on the finest of soft foods this evening to celebrate my victory! I have arranged the most well-groomed bitches for you all to consort with in my honor! Behold!” He barks, waving his paw toward the centrally located room in the Tower. Laying within are several beautifully groomed, free-of-fleas female Kaynines, waiting for the Bites of the Round Bowl to join them.

“Awoooooo!!!!!!” Grr GoodGallihad howls, unable to contain his excitement. “Come on, boys! Grr Barker has bestowed upon us the finest bitches in the Realm!”

As the group of brave Bites debaucherously make their way into the Chamber of Doggy-Style, one Bite remains behind, lacking the same level of excitement his peers have displayed. Witnessing the events from the Halls, Grr Barker’s own mentor and personal sorcerer, Squirrelin, sees this particular Bite pausing. Carefully approaching him, he inquires what is on the young Bite’s mind.

“Grr Poopsalot, what troubles you?” The magical rodent asks.

With a grave stare, Grr Poopsalot locks eyes with Squirrelin for a moment, only to let his gaze drift to the floor.

“I have been plagued with nightmares as of late, Squirrelin, and I fear for Grr Barker. For weeks, every night as I rotate several hundred times before finding the perfect spot for me to lay myself to rest, I have had terrifying images occupy my thoughts.”

Recognizing the significance of such events, the magic-wielding advisor tries to learn more.

“You must share these visions with me, Grr Poopsalot. It is the only way for me to use my powers; we must see if there is imbalance brewing in the Realm.” Squirrelin asserts, placing his claws on Poopsalot’s forehead.

As the two close their eyes and hang their heads, deep in concentration, the somewhat cavalier Grr Humpsalot shouts at them to join the others.

“Poops!” He barks. “Come, sit and be a good boy! We are celebrating our Lord’s victory, do not be disrespectful!”

Sighing and briefly locking eyes, Grr Poopsalot apologizes to the sorcerer for his duties.

“I am sorry, Squirrelin, but I must join my pack. We shall revisit this conversation another time.”

Obediently jogging toward the Chamber of Doggy Style, Poops reconvenes with his peers and partakes in all the pleasures Cage Spamalot has to offer. Squirrelin, recognizing the possibilities before him, retreats to his kennel to study what this young Bite’s dreams may truly mean.