The Eggman worked the corner of Zelda and Alley-way.
He’d had tricks up he sleeves, once.
Tricks to make his rodents dance.
No more.
No more dancing the pixel –
or the hatcha-hatcha, or chase.
No more chase.
I peeped out my window every day at him,
Watched him work the kids:
“Hey! Wanna see if I can guess yer weight?
Just hop in the sack – no? No? NO?
no?”
They’d steal his hat,
roll him into a small alley,
beat him here, there,
every
which
where.
Happened every day.
The Eggman.
The kids.
The offer.
The beatings.
And each time, Robin just sat there, going “Tweet”.
Damned sidekicks.
Writer Moe 