The Salad Assassin

Blood drips from the jowls of the assassin
As he savors the results of his kill
Bits of flesh hang from his nappy beard
As pepper showers from the mill

He steps around the body
And peaks at the head and its hole
Then sprinkles delectable bacon bits
Upon the lettuce in his bowl

“The politician had it coming.”
So his wife had made it known
The assassin shrugs and chuckles deep
As he pours his Newman’s Own

The kitchen floor is a sea of blood
And the walls are stained with red
The assassin does not want carrots on top
So he uses cheese instead

He thinks of his future bounty
And smiles at his job well done
Then he searches the cupboards for croutons
And grunts when he finds none

With a job of death and destruction
And a thirst for great bloodshed
This assassin’s need is nothing more
Than a salad in the wake of the dead

 

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