Explore "The King of Bores" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Abundant bores afflict this world, and some / Are bores of magnitude that-come and -- no, / They're always coming, but they never go -- / Like funeral pageants, as they drone and hum / Their lurid nonsense like a muffled drum, / Or bagpipe's dread unnecessary flow.
But one superb tormentor I can show -- / Prince Fiddlefaddle, Duc de Feefawfum.
He the johndonkey is who, when I pen / Amorous verses in an idle mood / To nobody, or of her, reads them through / And, smirking, says he knows the lady; then / Calls me sly dog. I wish he understood / This tender sonnet's application too.