How Am I Doing So Far?

“How am I doing so far?”

said Jesus on the cross, blood streaming

from his wounds, a smile on his face, though

they forgot to mention that in the Bible.

“How am I doing so far?” uttered from the lips

of the psychopath in uniform, his list of latest kills

stretched out to his superior sitting at his desk,

anxious to fill the quota.

“How am I doing so far?” Lee Atwater asked

George H. W. Bush after his latest dirty trick 

removed a rival from contention and before his 

brain tumor made him realize he’d made the 

mistake of his life by working for that evil man.

“How am I doing so far?” wondered the second

rate poet to himself in Mexico where he had 

escaped to from his native country, which he

had left when he saw it was going down the drain,

before the possibility arose that it could change.

It was the last thought he had before there was a

knock at the door, the Federal police there to be

certain he would never wonder any more.