Assassinate him! Bump him off! Crucify him! (Who would scoff?)
Drag 'n' drop him! Eighty-six him! Finishing him off’ll fix him.
Guillotine him! Hang 'im high! Immolate the frickin’ guy!
Jettison him down your loo! Knock his block off! Lynch him, too!
Massacre him! Neutralize him! Off him! (Death might quitel surprise him.)
Polish off his dumb ass? Do! Quarter him! (Then draw him, too!)
Rub him out and Suffocate him! Breathes he still? Then Terminate him!
If he still won’t die, Undo him! Vaporize him! (In short, screw him.)
Whack him! eXecute his ass! Yank his breathing tube: he’ll pass.
Zap him with your taser gun: 'Twill prove a boon...and so-o-o-o much fun.
Uly Poe pens dogg'rel verse. "'Tis fun," hums Uly, "I disburse." The gamut runs from bad to worse. The matter treated...? Quite diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a blessing largely. (Not a curse.)
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