The Hapless Tragedy of Matador Kingsley

(A nonsensical silly thing written one rainy afternoon.)

Matador Kingsley was a magnificent man.
He once toured the bull rings from Spain to Japan.
He looked more Brazilian but was born in Bombay,
He was the world's best matador. (And very handsomely paid.)

The crowds knew they'd see a spectacular fight,
When they'd watch him emerge in his suit of fine lights.
He would dance round the bull ring with the grace of a swan,
twirling his red cape, in breeches that shone.

But one fateful day in a bull ring in Fife,
a tragic accident would change Kingsley's life.
See, the bull boy who selected the bulls for the fights,
had been on the razzle the previous night,
and only this morning as Kingsley took his bow,
did he realise….

the bull he'd picked was in fact a large cow!

And as the gates rose up and Kingsley took his stance,
the bull boy threw the toreador a guilt-ridden glance.
As the terrified cow ran out of her pen, 
she tripped up on her udder with such momentum 
the force was spectacular (and the cow wasn't little)
She sped t'ward the matador like a bowling ball to a skittle.

The crowd gasped in horror and silently stared,
as Matador Kingsley was tossed high in the air.


There were no red roses being thrown from the stands,
just a defibrillator and a stretcher and an ambulance man.
Three panicked doctors and a cape ripped to shreds
The women shrieked and fainted: Could Kingsley be dead?

He woke up weeks later in a hospital bed,
with 200 stitches and a bump on the head,
two missing front teeth and in such bad condition,
it's a miracle he lived concurred the physicians.

Kingsley survived and now lives with his wife,
(an antiques dealer, whom he quite likes.)
He retired from the bull-ring and now helps her with the books,
He came to terms with the tragedy and the loss of his looks,
But whenever he hosts dinner parties and guests come round,
He will not tolerate any mention of cows. 

* * *


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