When Lorena Bobbit cut off her husband's willy the women in my family just laughed and laughed.
I think it was something like the O. J. verdict for women. It's getting to the point that it's not safe to be a cocky white guy anymore.
Come to think of it, yes. But they're always running off, and I don't know why. Just because of a little blood on a knife I happen to be holding, or because they don't like the breakfast I've prepared. Men are so circumstancial and suspicious. I am so misunderstood. :(
It would work better, in my not-so-humble opinion if you had the metre right, as in---------
I once had a friend all in black,
Who felt a sharp twinge in his back.
With his blood on my knife,
He fled for his life,
So we never quite got in the sack.
The meter may be sweeter to the ear, but the meaning is lost. He was not "all" in black, just mostly. And to say that was "his" blood on my knife either tells the reader way more than I want to, or it is worng.
To be fair, in my eyes limericks = Edward Lear or -=Dark_Angel=-, who both use a slightly different structure. As such this one felt shorter than I was expecting - but that's just my way of reading it - hence the previous agreement.
Either way, this does precisely what a good limerick should.
I once had a friend who was black.
I stabbed him eight times in the back.
He fell to the floor
And I stabbed him some more
Then pummelled his head with a jack.
I worshiped an angel in white.
Her face was all blushing and light.
So I changed my name to Dark Angel
And ceased being Charles Bernard Rangel
Hoping sheâd fall for my plight.
I once met a gay crippled ponce.
He lives in my house for the nonce.
He mutters and scowls
As he shakes his white jowls
But I've still not found out what he wants.
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I think it was something like the O. J. verdict for women. It's getting to the point that it's not safe to be a cocky white guy anymore.
she sliced off his penis
fried it in grease
served it for breakfast
said, have a piece
what are you doing later? ;]
I once had a friend all in black,
Who felt a sharp twinge in his back.
With his blood on my knife,
He fled for his life,
So we never quite got in the sack.
Yes, meter is good, but meaning is better.
That wasn't so painful now, was it :p
I ONCE had a FRIEND in BLACK,
Who FELT a TWINGE in his BACK.
With BLOOD on my KNIFE,
He FLED for his LIFE,
So we NEVer quite GOT in the SACK.
Either way, this does precisely what a good limerick should.
-not funny-
I once had a friend who was black.
I stabbed him eight times in the back.
He fell to the floor
And I stabbed him some more
Then pummelled his head with a jack.
I worshiped an angel in white.
Her face was all blushing and light.
So I changed my name to Dark Angel
And ceased being Charles Bernard Rangel
Hoping sheâd fall for my plight.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_B._
He lives in my house for the nonce.
He mutters and scowls
As he shakes his white jowls
But I've still not found out what he wants.
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