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Dear Rupert

Tucker might be going down, but he's not going quietly

By Addison AlderPublished about a year ago Updated about a year ago 2 min read
Dear Rupert
Photo by Ana Flávia on Unsplash

Dear Rupert,

.

I wish there were another way

to express the words I have to say.

So please accept my deep regrets,

that I must use rhyming couplets.

.

The judge, when he passed down my sentence,

decreed the mode of my repentance.

“The fitting punishment for your crime:

you must communicate in rhyme.”

.

“Cruel!” cried my lawyer. “And unusual!

This is deeply unconstitutional!”

I hung my head, began to sweat,

Because I know I'm no poet.

.

The hardest part of this technique

is I must think before I speak.

And, worst of all, that the name ‘Tucker’

Only rhymes with ‘motherfucker’.

.

I never dreamed this day would come

in our great land built on freedom.

I thought we’d stacked the Supreme Court

but, even still, my ass got caught.

.

So anyway, they set me free,

my speech gagged metaphorically.

An officer with a vigilant ear

is monitoring my logorrhea.

.

But listen, Rupes, I did my bit.

I spouted all that awful shit.

My inflammatory rhetoric

sent viewing figures stratospheric.

.

And while I’m no right-wing pretender

I toed the line of your agenda.

If I'd not read your autocues,

I’d still be anchoring network news.

.

But I see the bigger picture now:

The red wall is coming down.

Without right-wing voices just like me,

It’s end times for the GOP.

.

So, buddy boy, let’s not be coy

(‘tho writing this brings me no joy...)

I know where you hid your skeletons.

And I’ll drop ‘em like a thousand megatons.

.

As God’s my witness, I’ll bring you down.

I’ll leak like a faucet all over town.

My discretion has a price in gold.

What you earned, you owe me tenfold.

.

So let me lay out out what I want:

A Tampa mansion on the front,

A tax-free island near Tahiti,

Hush money and a Lamborghini.

.

Network news is getting shuttered.

Half the audience is cordcutters.

But I’m done kissing ass broadcasting.

My future’s clearly in podcasting.

.

You’ve not heard the last of me.

I’m just starting my Act 3.

So now’s the time to rise and pucker.

Your loyal puppet: Carlson, Tucker.

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About the Creator

Addison Alder

Writer of Wrongs. Discontent Creator. Human author of 100% organic fiction. No reviews, no listicles.

👋🏻 Handwrought in London UK 🇬🇧

💸 Buy me on GODLESS, Amazon, Patreon

🌐 Find me on Linktr.ee, X, Insta, Substack, Medium, Goodreads

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Comments (1)

  • Susanna Kiernanabout a year ago

    I like the humour in this :D The structure is really tight. Well done.

Addison AlderWritten by Addison Alder

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