Mr. X was a failure so far,
but hadn't had a chance yet,
for he had only started.
Mr. X is a playwriter;
Mr. X is a poet.
Mr. X is both.
He wrote a poem,
and put it in his play.
It got to be promoted.
And it got to be produced.
It was opening night.
Mr. X was very happy.
With all his friends to come & see,
the stage with actors,
the theater sold out.
It was the largest success
of plays that played.
At end, they called him up.
He then took a bow.
The applause was deafening,
and Mr. X went off.
He put his hand in his pocket,
and took out his gun.
He had the broadest smile of anyone,
as he shot into his head.
He was Dead!
Andy Kaufman
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