Frank Underwood and Man’s Best Friend (House of Cards Reactionary Poem)

He doesn’t know it yet,

but I could end him

just as easily as he breathes.


Of course,

he barked on

making his case.


I didn’t really listen to him,

though I acted as if I did.

Democracy is so overrated afterall,

and most don’t understand what’s right in front of them.


A lion does not ask for permission

before he eats a zebra,

and I am one hungry lion.


“And to think,

I have been nothing

but good to you since

we brought you in,

and this is the way that you repay me.

All that I’ve ever asked of you

is simply to stay off of my video game chair.


We had an agreement,

and I have zero tolerance for betrayal,

which you will soon indelibly learn.”


The barking continued,

and he sat on my chair.

I pursed my lips hard,

and narrowed my eyes.


I was livid.


The life of a dog

never had a spot in my heart,

and this dog has always been

of no real use to me.


So I grabbed the mutt

and wrenched its fucking neck

harder than a dish towel after supper.


Moments like this requires

someone who will act

and do the unpleasant thing,

but the necessary thing.


I am that someone.



No more dog.”


Just as simple as that,

I bagged the worthless corpse,

took out the trash,

wiped my hands with the situation,

sat down in my game chair,

and played Call of Duty

until Claire arrived home.


There would be no point in telling her.

The decision had already been made.



“The dog ran away.”


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