the savior to all known underdogs,
even the one who loved Polly Purebred.
The absence of apposable thumbs,
can be unnerving when in life threatening situations,
but there's no need to fear,
the convenient killer is here!
If Fonzie had one,
he would never have hurt his hand on that jukebox,
and he could have avoided his trip to jail for
If The Boy Who Lived had a butterfly knife,
that jerk Umbridge would have been dead before she was even written,
and the nerd in me wouldn't have gotten so worked up
that I had to clutch my Marauder's Map.
If six had the sharp, pointed protector of all,
especially those who sing a little flat,
then maybe it wouldn't have been so afraid of seven
after it ate nine and bought a brass knuckle.
If my sweet grandmother had a butterfly knife,
she would only use it cut off a slice of cake for me...
Actually she'd probably cut off the hand
of that chick who keeps beating her at Bridge.
If Hydrogen had this device,
it could steal an electron from Sodium,
and finally become stable,
just like the noble gases that made fun of it in Element-ary School.
If Americans had butterfly knives,
we would use it to protect ourselves,
since we rank thirtieth in math,
and our national debt rises above the highest number we can say that doesn't end in -kajillion.
If Tinkerbell had one,
applause wouldn't be necessary,
because even a man with a hook for a hand
would be afraid of a fairy with a weapon that requires extensive training.
If I had a butterfly knife,
I would use it to cut my favorite equation,
81x^4 - 325x^2 + 4,
into my birthday cake.
I would also use it to shave down my oboe reed,
to try and stop the frequent tonky noises,
then I could stab it in a state of rage,
after I slowly realize that it hates me and therefore will not play anything.
Even considering all of these possibilities,
the butterfly knife's best quality is its ablilty to
tickle a funny bone,
even after it cuts flesh.
That was the purpose of this poem,
to take everyone on a wild ride,
that hopefully brings laughter to a world where problems can dig down into your heart
until you've lost every thought that made the world a magical place.
A wonderful place where everyone can find the love and support
that it takes to create an imagination within billions of neurons.
I know firsthand how cruel some battles can be,
having lost a father to something that destroys the brain in the long run,
but Americans stuck with it even during Prohibition,
all because life can make you want to forget for a few hours.
So forget all materialistic things for a few seconds,
and cherish every chuckle that comes with a pun about the elements.