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You have committed several offences against my person. Mostly while we play Ultimate. Offence #1  You threw a frisbee straight at my head. You were aiming at another person further downfield but you hit me square in the forehead. Jerk. I hate you. I was even on your team. Offence #2  We both went up for the same floating frisbee. You managed to elbow my skull. The sound echoes in my brainpan to this day. Oh, how I hate you, Marc P. Bowland. I will write a poem about it someday. Maybe today. At least you had the minimal decency to be on another team. Jerk. I still hate you. Poem My body floats upstream In a River of Hate There is no water, just hate For someone You know who I'm talking about It's Marc P. Bowland Update: June 4, 2004 This new version of Offence #1 was sent to me by another hater of Marc P. Bowland. I am glad to see I am not alone. This is from a witness of the Offence in question.  This is very accurate. My pain is renewed. My hate is redoubled. I hope you have no doubts as to its source. Here is a clue: it rhymes with Park B Mowland. Update: January 8, 2009 Someone once told me, "Hate is love taken too far." That person is wrong. Hate is me elbowing you in the head not taken far enough. Your reckoning draws nigh, Marc P. Bowland; the frisbee of bad karma is approaching your very own face! |