I looked around.
Me? A short, orange-skinned
green-haired singing little person?

If anything, I was the one wearing the hat
doing everything in halves
watching children eating my life.

No, I don't sing. I scare away
vermicious k'nids as they crawl into my space
telling me to SCRAM, but are obliterated in my atmosphere

However, when pressed to give a reply
to the nebulous question of the entirety
of my existence, squished into a few words, I said

"I'm a whangdoodle." The one creature
who is as undefined as the aliens in space
but is well-known to children who love stories.

Hello, darling,
I see your coat is ready
To be put back up on the rack
I decided to marry you
And now I know why.

Tired, darling?
I want to make dinner for you,
A wine and dine for the two of us
I hate to see you this tired
After a long day.

What is it, darling?
I know there's something on your chest
So please, get it off for me
Were we made for each other
For you to break this news to me?

Okay, darling,
I'll fix some supper
This leg of lamb could fit you nice
Swung into the air with my hands
And onto the back of your head.

All right.
So I've killed him.