Out this morning, going for a run, and
Up comes a terrier snapping at my ankles,
Followed by its owner, grinning like a half-wit.
“Don’t mind Boris, he’s only playing.
Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that’s just his bit of mischief.
Tra la la la la.
Tra la la.”
I have constructed a life-size running robot.
Strapped to its ankles are forty-five pounds of
A highly specific plastic explosive
Guaranteed to vaporise dogs and their owners
Up to a range of half a mile, while leaving
All other life and property intact.
Don’t mind me, that’s just my bit of mischief.
Tra la la la la.
Tra la la.