Thursday, January 14, 2010

Get Short

At a basketball game
The sport that I love
A guy smiles at me
From way up above

Hey, Shorty, he says,
That must be your name
You'll have to stand on my shoulders
If you wanna see the game

I hate him already
I'm not short as he alleged
Would it kill him to admit
I'm just vertically challenged?

Are you having a good day?
I know he's trying to irk
How's the weather down there?
He asks with a smirk

I want to spit in his eye
And tell him it's raining
Maybe I could send it that high
With a few years of training

A beanpole like him
Has no room to talk
Why, at my family reunion,
Everybody'd just gawk

I look him up and down
Before I bore into his eyes
His life sucks worse than mine
And I'll tell him just why

Just looking at you
Gives me bad vertigo
Your mama should have dropped you
So you'd stop to grow

You'll find nothing that fits
When you look for garments
At least I can shop
In the kids department

I have luxurious space
When I go to bed
I'm not crammed against
The foot or the head

When it comes to legroom
I have vehicles' favor
My knees don't touch my ears
When I drive a Ford Ranger

I'm glad that I'm short
It's by God's grace
That I can wear a hat
So I don't see your face

Now you're starting to cry
You see your height is a mishap
Make like a tree, tall boy, or
I'll punch you right in the kneecap

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