I Ate Bob

There was once a man named Bob,
Whom I dearly loved to rob.
He was my best friend, that is true.
But a thief does what a thief will do.
First I would rob him of treasures of every sort,
And the next day I would console and comfort.
One might argue that I was not very moral
To do this disservice to my good pal,
But I would argue that I am just being nice,
Because greed was always Bob's chief vice.

Bob ended up losing his job,
Because he was dressed like a slob.
Of course I never meant to do hurt,
When I stole his only good shirt.
But that really doesn't matter now,
The 'why's' or the how.
Because you cannot change what went by,
And it would do no good to moan or cry.
I knew it would not be worth the aggrevation,
To try to remedy the situation.

Bob's whining and demanding became so great,
That even his best friend couldn't help but to hate.
That damned Bob just had to go to far,
And asked if he could borrow my nice new car!
There are limits even to me generosity,
Especially to one so undeserving of pity.
I decided I would end this once and for all,
So picked up the phone to give him a call.
I told him to come down because I'd found him a job,
And when he did, I ate Bob.


Think I will be able to publish it and make millions?

Comfort sounds like a dirty castle when rhyming it in your poem.

I like the black humour in it.