The Court of King Doc

A Flippant Conjecture About the Nature of Divine Mercy,

Or The Story of a Guy Who Was impossible to Like

No one knew why they called him, “Doc”

But he didn’t come across like a doctor

He had a devious-looking face, and he wore

The same suspiciously stained shorts

To the park all summer

He’d sit there, with his gigantic head thrust forward,

Mocking the pigeons, - And occasionally,

He’d get up and try to kick them

He thought they were “dirty little shits,”

And he wanted God to know

How he felt about them

One day, Doc stopped coming to the park

Because he got sick and died of cancer,

And he couldn’t be mean anymore

So, some pigeons hopped up

On the bench where Doc used to sit

And casually befouled the throne,

Not even acknowledging the significance

Of a villainous king’s inevitable demise

Still, no one can say for certain if Doc was sent to hell,

Even though the pigeons gave a shit about him

Only in the way they actually did.