71. Marry, F-ck, or Kill

Warning: I use a bad word in this entry, my loves. We're visiting a friend of Megan's tonight, then on to the hinterlands tomorrow to see her brother and his family. We had a delicious burrito, and then went to have a drink or so at a little bar.  We played a fun game where you throw out the names of three people and choose which you would marry, which you would fuck-- er, make sweet love to-- and which you would kill. It was fun, but Megan and Allison wanted to throw around literary figures while I wanted to throw out choices like elephant, llama, or shark. Oh well.

I would not kill him, and I don't think he's the marrying type.

In Carrboro, we found a tiny bar

to sit in after dinner, for to tarry.

A game we played. Three folks, we questioned are:

who would we fuck, who kill, and who'd we marry?

The skill comes in when picking out your choices.

You can't proffer a pretty and two jerks.

The fun is when we call, in different voices,

and then debate our choice: that's how this works.

So pick your three to challenge friends with care.

For instance: Bowie, Kerouac, and Yeats.

You see? It's hard to pick which would go where;

You hands now hold these legends' sundry fates.

It says so much about you when you choose.

Surprisingly, this game goes best with booze.