Mr. McGillicuddy marveled as he put down the last of the poems for the Bad Poetry Contest. He was surprised by their originality and the fact that all of them were truly awful poems. He was gratified. The contest had been a complete success!
"Mrs. McGillicuddy!" he called as he got up from his desk, "I have some truly horrendous poems with which to amuse you!"
"Please allow me to get a fresh cup of coffee first," said Mrs. McGillicuddy. "Can I interest you in an espresso or cappuccino?"
"Absolutely!" said Mr. McGillicuddy heartily. "I'll need a large cup of it to wet my whistle as I recite the poems to you."
Within a short time, Mrs. McGillicuddy arrived in her husband's office and handed him a large mug of steaming cappuccino. Then she sat in her own chair and put her feet up while sipping her coffee.
"There now," she said. "I am comfortable and would like to hear the brilliant works these contestants have come up with."
Mr. McGillicuddy picked up the first sheet of paper. "This is the one I have judged to be the worst of the couplets:
Roses are read about in newspapers
Then their pictures line bird cages."
Mrs. McGillicuddy choked on her coffee. "Aren't couplets supposed to rhyme? My goodness, that is bad."
Mr. McGillicuddy's eyes brimmed over with mischief as he nodded. "Here, let me read you this quatrain: