The Hermit Poet

I need a BBQ & I’m a darn good backyard wrestler

My neighbour’s no-good teenage thug sons, thought it would cool to vandalize my stationwagon with their poor spelled taunts & claims of doin things those boys are too young to do with Pammy, our loyal & very catholic filipino nanny/garden helper. Then they came over and destroyed my Broil-King with those stupid swords they’re always brandishing over the fence at when Toby, bad boy Tim & me are practicing our wrestling moves & developing our skills. Those boys in thier oversize tracksuits, all fired up on whatever they do up in that weird shack they built up in the tree, listenng to that foul-mouthed rap ‘music, are trying to break me. They know I’m a semi-pro wrestler, that I trained with Chuck Norris back when I lived Long Beach, they know I was once in “BLACKBELT” magazine; they know I am skilled & deadly adversary. But they also know that I stopped drinkin, doin marijuana and cheatin on my special-lady when Jesus came to me & said “you ain’t foolin’ nobody you drunken loser! You got an appointment with the lord!”. Since I was born again, I don’t fight teenagers anymore. But those boys are testing me, trying to make me give in to the urge to kick their buts, drink their ‘wildcat’s & show-off my manliness. But my faith is strong. I won’t give in. But if someone wants go get me a new broil king, I will train them into an elite street fighter over the summer, get them a ninja suit or Karate jumper & let them into my weapons closet to select throwing stars, whips, bamboo fighting sticks, korean battle hammers & secret weapons I will not descibe here, These are priceless weapons, a few of them were gifts form chuck, WWF stars & real ninjas. Then this person will rid my street of these pussy-boy rapper & will resume my weekly BBQs & backyard wrestling clinics.

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