The ongoing battle against the hobgoblins – the tales of Dr. Sphincter

Several fateful weeks had passed,
Arthur still coddles his knees.
There’d been no sighting of the hobgoblin,
that’d crippled him with such ease.

Outside he’d placed some traps,
to snag the cretin in action.
His vision had been fixated on the garden,
without faltering or solemn distraction.

He still couldn’t quite believe it,
in what world or depraved groups,
would a hobgoblin come to hobble him,
over some nonsense about spaghetti hoops.

With his binoculars he sat vigilantly,
waiting to catch a glance or a peek.
Then on the staircase behind him,
he heard a quiet creak.

Arthur moved slowly,
to position himself behind the door.
If this little fucker wanted a fight,
he was going to get a war.

He raised his walking cane,
ready to strike a fatal blow.
If he could murder the little fucker,
he’d have evidence to show.

The door cracked open slowly,
and in rolled a can of spaghetti hoops.
The can was half-empty,
as though someone had taken a few scoops.

In leapt the hobgoblin,
expecting to catch Arthur unaware.
He stoved its fucking head in,
and tied it to a chair.

Just about conscious it managed to say a few words,
“Give me your hoops fat cunt”.
“There’s a whole litter of us you know...”
“and I’m just the runt”.

Arthur's eyes widened,
he knew he’d bitten off more than he could chew.
As the hobgoblin took its last breath,
it let out a meaty poo.