You know, it's said every story has a hero
or at least one character that's main,
but to call Larry anything
less than grotesque
is bordering on the insane.
In a tavern booth
in the days of my youth,
we sat wasting away precious time,
one day what ensued,
though you may think it crude,
is the plot for this story in rhyme.
You see, Larry liked to bet,
and he yelled where he sat
in a voice that was screeching,
And I, hey, barkeep,
I will bet a 10 bill
I can bite my own right eye.
Now this keep overgrown for being
congenial weren't known,
and his conversation often lacked grace,
and all the hours therein that we'd
spent in that den,
we never once saw a smile
on his face.
He glared at our friend
with an evil -like grin.
I sure didn't think he'd buy it,
but he reached in the till,
pulled out a bill,
said, I'd like to see you
try it.
Well, Larry popped out his glass eye.
Bid it, not hard,
then return that thing to its socket,
then he picks up his
winnin' all the time
while he grinned
and stuck it neat in his pocket.
Tender's face, it turned red.
Some cuss words was said,
it weren't hard
seein' he wasn't too tickled.
Larry saw the despise
in them bloodshot eyes
and grinned that grin he grins
when he's pickled.
You're a strange sort of bloke,
most folks laugh at that joke,
but you didn't, Larry said with a sigh.
but I'm off -sportin' men,
so I'll bet one more ten
I can bite my own left eye."
You couldn't be blind,
I myself seen you find your way
through tables en route to the john.
You're tryin' to bluff,
think I've not guts enough?
Well, I'm callin' your hand,
kid, you're on.
Now, Larry weren't blind,
that was easy to see.
The keep thought he'd found his reprieve,
so he laid down a ten spot
and folded his arms.
But Larry had a trick up his
sleeve, you see.
Larry'd been kicked in the mouth
as a kid by this horse he was
trying to bite,
and what few teeth were left
after that episode,
some years later, got lost in a fight.
This time, he didn't pop out any glass peeper,
though he acted like he'd give it a try,
but with the toothless grin
of a man richer by ten,
he used his false teeth
to bite his left eye.
Well, the bartender blew.
He cussed Larry clean
through.
He said, take the money, get out
of this place.
I've been swindled today.
You've got most my pay.
You best leave while you still got
a face.
I assure you, sir, it was all
done in jest.
I didn't mean to make
you upset.
I'll give you a go to
win back your dough
if you'd just care to make one more bet.
Now, if you'll go down
far to the end of the bar
and place there a shot glass upright,
I'll make a bet you won't regret,
and most likely you'll be richer tonight.
But I'll bet the twenty you had,
then ten more I'll add,
that I can fill up a shot glass so far
with nothing more than the juice from
my lipful of snooze
and not get one drop on your bar."
Well, the bartender knew it was at
least 20 foot alone
that bar made in late Hardwood,
and although he know men who were
good with their aim,
no one was known to be
that good.
So we took up the bet, laid down his dough,
that shot glass was placed quick and
neat.
Larry steps up,
spry lets tobacco juice fly.
Not a drop came within seven feet.
Larry was beat.
Revenge was sweet.
The keep was laughing. I knew it.
The target was too far.
He walked up with the grin,
pocketed his win, grabbed a rag,
and started cleaning that bar.
Hey, what's with your grin?
You're now in to me, Ten.
He said, wiping the bar all the while.
Well, I bet my friends, for they are,
that I could spit on your bar
and you'd wipe it
Waddie Mitchell 
