Rhyme Thyme 1

The Duff painted his gate.
Yup you got that right.
He painted it late,
in the middle of the night.

He painted it black,
over the whites.
He did not slack,
after dinner bites.

His father forced him,
in a subtle way.
He just started painting,
in his seat The Duff couldn't stay.

So his arms are now spotty,
with thick black paint.
It actually looks quite gory,
like his skin is nothing but taint.

Give it a day he thinks,
it should all come off.
If not he'd rub it pink,
with something that is rough.

CAR

The Duff has his car. His own car. His own piece of transportational excellence. His very own slice of motoring excitement. His one and only spot of mercurial travel equipment. Alas, it has arrived.

For 2 whole dreary months, The Duff had awaited the arrival of his carriage. For 2 months, he went through nail biting anxiety while he awaited the arrival of his carriage. For 2 months, he waited.

The wait is now over.

But, he has limitations. He cannot rev the engine beyond 3000rpms. Or go above 100km/h. He cannot jam on the brakes nor swerve too harshly. In fact, he is supposed to treat the workhorse like a metallic virgin.

However, he has flaunted all the above rules. His workhorse shall not be spoilt. Much like his previous 4 wheels, this one will be treated to the utmost toughest regiment of mechanical gruel.

To him, machines are tools to be used, not to be fussed over.

The Duff will simply not stand for pussy cars. That is his truth. Is it yours?