My Lucky Dice
Once upon a battle, dreary,
As I pondered, weekend beery,
How to force a victory cheery,
And crush my enemy
to the core.
I sat with General Crush attending,
Hope on his face for the impending
Mayhem til the bloody ending,
And adding up
the final score.
Suddenly there came a crashing,
All along the table, smashing,
And my lucky dice went flashing,
Past me, falling
to the floor
"Sorry, dude," there came a mutter,
From the warlord, dropping clutter,
With fingers that were slick as butter,
On our table that could
hold no more.
Down I glanced at carpet strewn,
With crumbs and wrappers that would soon
Be sterilized by the host's vacuum
Would I toss 'Lucky Tom'
"I bet," said the General,
"Not no more..."
Is this the end of the Slobbering Horde?
Victory dashed by a clumsy warlord?
Could I even lift a sword
With my dice now
on the floor?
Quoth the General,
I vowed that he would feel my wrath
As would all that crossed my path
But my Horde, engaged, would take a bath,
A beating, as they'd ne'er attack,
Nor roll for damage...no,
I cry out to the gods of gaming,
Gygax and Jackson, just two I'm naming,
Power my curse that has no taming
Dark revenge is what I'm aiming,
Touched by vile
and tainted lore.
"Dude, are these your dice? They're neat!"
Tom! And Jerry! We are complete!
Miracle recovery I gladly greet!
"Bud, they were underneath your feet."
Will the General stop laughing?
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