The Pest

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In all the world's pharmacies, there's not enough aspirin on the shelf

to relieve the headache that Superman gets from a fifth-dimensional elf.


Yes, the mighty Man of Steel always feels more than a little sick

when he receives a visit most unwelcome from Mr. Mxyzptlk*.


He's the master of pranks and with his magic our reality he distorts.

He's the ants at Humanity's picnic, the itching powder in Superman's shorts.


The little clown's pranks might be hysterically funny if it were not so terribly tragic

that he makes a mess of our daily lives with his extra-dimensional magic.


You don't dare make a pun around him or use any figurative speech

because he'll make it real, he'll make it come true; nothing is beyond his reach.


You will hear bouncy music from rubber band. Cats and dogs will fall from the sky.

And above them, ready to fall upon us, floats a giant lemon-creme pie.


A sense of moral proportion? We know he will always lack it.

So avoid the punching bag, my friend, and don't wear a smoking jacket.


Don't refer to your girlfriend's diamond as ice, lest it melt in the noonday sun.

Don't wear running shoes unless you really, really want to run.


And pity the plastic surgeon, whose experience is potentially deflating.

Now do you see why Superman finds this character so irritating?


So if from our world you would banish this imp, it's actually easy to erase him.

Just use your wits, play a trick, and get him to say "kil'tip-zay-skim".


* pronounced Miks-yez-pittle-ick.


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