Gallons of Milk

Superman is...Super. He can catch bullets, run faster than speeding trains, fly higher than a bird, bend steel with his hand, and to top it all off, he has x-ray vision. But even Superman has a weakness. Kryptonite; That green stone from the planet Krypton, that when put within the same city block as Superman, brings him to his knees. A rock! a green, glowing rock, brings the Man of Steel to his knees, and renders him utterly incapable, and absolutely useless! All of his strength and skills means bupkiss when pitted against this glowy stone of death.
    Gallons of milk are my Kryptonite. One gallon to be more specific, but multiple gallons would also be bad. Making a bowl of cereal is quite the task; I grab a bowl out of the cupboard with ease, and open a bag of Marshmallow Mateys with such finesse that any gymnastics judge would be brought to tears. But as I waddle closer to the refrigerator I feel myself becoming weaker; beads of sweat start to form on my forehead, my arm begins to tingle, starting in my fingertips and moving all the way up to my shoulder. As I grab the handle I'm already breathing in and out like I'm about to clean and jerk 500 pounds. I know that Superman never just reached out and grabbed some Kryptonite, but lets face it...I'm awesome. I stare my enemy down, I reach out my hand and grab my arch enemy by the clear neck, I slide the jug across the clear surface so as to save my strength for the "big lift". I reach the edge of the shelf, "the Big Drop", "The point of no return". I can't turn back now, I've tackled, or at least made a valiant effort to tackle 300 lb Polynesians...I will not be defeated by a gallon of milk. I feel the muscle in my upper arm start to pull as gravity takes it's toll and the gallon gets the better of my baby arm strength; I regain power, and lift the jug just long enough to fill my bowl with milky nectar.. No time to think, the pain has already happened; time to go back to the shelf; I do some quick Lamaze breathing and return the milk jug to it's rightful spot. My arm feels like a limp noodle, sweat is dripping from my forehead into my bowl of Mateys, but "By George"!! i have done it.. I have conquered my kryptonite...suck on that superman

Stay classy my well rested friends.
 

Righty

Milk jugs, soup cans, 12 packs of soda,

And big boxes of soap

These are just a few things that have

Blasted a big hole where there used to be hope

I used to be hardcore; you’d never see righty mope

Lifting weights,

Tackling rookies  

Getting slammed to the ground

Get hit,

Get back up again,

Righty could take a pound.

One hit was all it took,

And righty was out of commission

All the beatings before,

And this one little hit didn’t even ask righty’s permission

Now righty hangs like a noodle,

Doing menial tasks

Typing on a keyboard,

And maybe lifting a box of Apple Jacks

But righty will wait for his chance to get back to the gym

To lift 25 pound weights,

Even though right now the future looks grim

Righty is a fighter and won’t ever give up

Even if he gets cut off,

At least his place could be taken by a badass titanium nub