I really don't think it's possible for anything to ever be better than that. I just. don't.
Well, don't discount one of Boner's most poetic moments to date, in his harrowing account of a coke addict with badminton used as a metaphor (once again).
Shuttling to Stand Still
And so she moved up
Moved up from where she was, left side
Said we got to do something about this cock coming
Step on a base line
Get to the cock in time
Maybe charge from the backcourt to the net
Serving all la la la de day
All la la la de day
Sweet the shuttle
But bitter the cock in my mouth
I see seven points
But I only see we're one down
You got to swing without missing
Drop without netting
Return without losing your poise, you know
I took the racquet, from the racquet case
Then I smashed it out of here
Serving all la la la de day
Serving all la la la de day
She runs 'cross the court
With cock painted red
Under black belly of refs to be blamed
In the locker room she brings me
White towel and ben-gay stolen from the sea
She is charging
She is charging and the cock hits her right in the eyes
She will suffer the racquet chill
She is shuttling to stand still.
(jew's harp solo)