The kite

This is a story about a man named Mike 
He was a gangster 
And liked to fly kites 
One day when out one day 
His kite did snap and fly away 
So that day when he arrived back home 
A place where he lived all alone 
His only friend his mobile phone 
Sometimes he liked to play trombone 
He called a colleague at his home 
Who also like to fly big kites 
And liked to ride fast motor bikes 
he even had a three wheeled trike

He asked him if he had spare 
He said “yes I have one made from a chair, 
But it doesn’t fly to be fair
it's too heavy to catch any air" 

Mike replied,

“ill nip round and collect the kite 
I’m curious about the hype
of how a kite made from a chair 
Cannot fly or catch the  air”

So Mike this curious gangster type 
Got in his car and drove all night 
He arrived early the next morning 
Erm I’d say around 7:30 
He knocked on his door 
Found the guy upon the floor 
two bullet holes through his door 
a pool of blood upon the floor 
the kite in pieces next to him 
with a note that said 
“you owe me 50 grand
due last Thursday” 

so Mike this gruesome gangster type 
picked up the pieces of the kite 
took it home and built it right 
then flew the kite all through the night