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Busted

 

“Gee, calm down, mister,
I didn’t want my baseball to go through your window, either;
it’s not like I meant to hit your house.
Can I please have my ball back now?”

“I didn’t want my baseball to go through your window, either;
yelling about it over and over isn’t really going to help, though.
Can I please have my ball back now?
It’s getting late, and I have to get home.”

“Yelling about it over and over isn’t really going to help, though.
It’s not like I can change things.
It’s getting late, and I have to get home;
I don’t want my mom to get mad.”

It’s not like I can change things;
the damage is done and I’m going to be in serious trouble.
I don’t want my mom to get mad,
but I don’t see how I can change that.

“’The damage is done and I’m going to be in serious trouble;’
yes, Mom, I heard you the first time,
but I don’t see how I can change that.
Why does Dad even have to know about this?”

“Yes, Mom, I heard you the first time –
I’m not trying to get out of anything, but
why does Dad even have to know about this?
I already lost my ball; isn’t that enough?”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything, but
it was an accident, and I’m being treated like I planned all this.
I already lost my ball; isn’t that enough?
It’s not fair that I have to pay for that window with my allowance.”

It was an accident, and I’m being treated like I planned all this.
All I wanted to do was nail that lawn gnome with my fastball.
It’s not fair that I have to pay for that window with my allowance;
it’s the gnome’s fault for deflecting the ball.

“All I wanted to do was nail that lawn gnome with my fastball.
Gee, calm down, mister;
it’s your gnome’s fault for deflecting the ball.
It’s not like I meant to hit your house.”

 


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Busted, by Paul Cales, © November 2003