Sense Sonnet - Tickler

Stuff It

A big game hunter, full of boast,
Was showing off his trophy room.
His guest was weary of her host.
"I'm stuck with him," she thought in gloom.
He dragged her to each mounted head,
And told her how he bagged the kill.
She felt them lucky they were dead,
Spared hearing all this boring swill.
A tiger skin was on the floor.
"I got this back in '63."
"Now, here's the story," said the bore.
"I'll tell you it was him or me."

"Wise choice," said the guest with a shrug,
"You would have made a lousy rug."