We'd all like a lot of things, but alas, we don't get them. You've only bested me due to End spitefully deciding not to pick me out of what I can only assume is a mixture of lust, childish adoration and jealousy combined in some dangerous brew, and that was in a short story written very quickly, and I'm willing to use all my time to create gold here. I remind you, speed and length are my strength. Ask your mother.
Edit: Should BZ go ahead and pick some incredibly shitty title, like "Poetry", this point is rescinded, and replaced with "Sure, have my scraps. I wouldn't wipe my ass with this contest if it had your mothers tongue attached." I need the mother insult either way, I'm taking this shit not only to the streets, but the motherfucking playground.