The Angel says if I want to be a sucker, that’s my business,
But it’s all about service, not servitude—in this world, you
Either become a monster or you wait on one.
O, Hopler! If only sitting on your hands was heroic! If only
boredom was a form of prayer!
The Angel says I have the quiet confidence and smoldering
Good looks one usually associates with more confident and
A coward’s confession—, that’s what he thinks my ulcer is.
He thinks I should knock some heads together if I’m really
So convinced everyone is such a mother-
I see what they mean, Hopler—
one really does get tired of you.
He wants to know how often I’ve been mistaken for a shrub.
The Angel says if you beat someone long enough and hard enough,
They will learn to love you for it.
That’s mighty big talk, isn’t it, Hopler—coming from a man who
lives with his mother?
Hopler, I’ve had it with all your crying and complaining. If I
wanted to hear whining, I’d kick a dog.