Having written a poem I now realize I am a genius.
So I take what I want and need not ask forgiveness - because I do these things for you, dear reader. I have stolen William's plums - the ones he originally stole himself. I devoured them. They were, indeed, delicious so sweet and so cold. But I need not ask forgiveness. His plums nourished me as my sweet lyrics now nourish you, dear reader. I watched another William as he plucked silver and golden apples and when he bent over to put them in his sack I plucked him. I plucked him good and hard and for a long time. Then I trampled his dappled grass. But I need not ask forgiveness. His apples sustained me as these graceful notes now sustain you, dear reader. I heard a third William as he obsessed about his stewed prunes, which had caused him to grow horns where his rapidly receding hair had been. I grabbed his wrinkled prunes and squeezed the sour juice. From that weak stream I concocted a cocktail, which I drink to his health even as he steams in the stew. But I need not ask forgiveness. His prunes seduced me, as these charming melodies now seduce you, dear reader. I shall now write my second poem. It will be a sonnet.
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief