clock menu more-arrow no yes mobile

Filed under:

Jimmy Butler, the Kid Who Couldn’t Find What He Was Looking For

A strong and handsome and fearless pup searches high and low for an elusive grail. Will he find it in time to save himself?

Sean Mack

One day—this is not a story about an event from so long ago that a “Once upon a time” is necessary, only a “One day”—but one day, a boy, strong and handsome and fearless, found himself in a bit of a pickle. Because, try as he might, and search as he might, he could not find his Fuck.

He knew that he had a Fuck somewhere. He’d seen it. He’d seen several of them before, really. Lots even. But suddenly they were all gone. And his friends were sad about it, because they knew that if the boy couldn’t find any of his Fucks, then that meant he had no Fucks for them.

And so the boy looked everywhere
And did so with great, great care.
He looked way up high,
Way past the sky.
And he looked way down low,
Where even the light won’t go.
But he couldn’t find a Fuck to give.

He checked under rocks
And inside socks.
He looked at the park,
Even in an ark.
He moved chairs and logs and boxes;
He asked bears and frogs and foxes.
But he couldn’t find a Fuck to give.

“Who moved my Fuck?” he screamed.
“Someone moved my Fuck!” he deemed.
“Give me back my Fuck!” he blared.
“Right this instant!” he declared.
“This is so sad!”
“I am so mad!”
“I cannot find a Fuck to give!”

The boy’s friends stopped by
To help him try
To find his Fuck,
But there was no luck.
A friend: “Is it under this chair?”
Another friend: “Is it behind this toy bear?”
The third friend: “Did it vanish into the air?”
The boy: “Why are my Fucks so rare?!”
They looked everywhere.
The Fucks simply were not there.
The boy had not one single Fuck to give.

And so the friends went home.
And the boy was all alone.
And it was bad.
And he was sad.
And he was mad.







His Fucks were not lost, turns out.
His Fucks had not been tossed, turns out.
They didn’t need to be found.
They were safe and sound.
Stuffed in a trunk,
Behind much junk,
He had many, many Fucks to give.

So many, in fact,
So, so many, in fact,
Not one Fuck was lacked.
Not. One. Single. Fuck. Was. Lacked.
He had Fucks for days,
In all the ways.
Fucks to fill all the air.
“I’m a Fucks billionaire!”
“I just don’t want to share!”
And so the boy kept all of his Fucks.

Sports Cards Nonsense

The Vintage Market With Ken Griffin. Plus, NBA Finals Buys and the Panini Break-In.

Real Ones

Amin Elhassan on the NBA Finals, Boston’s Collapse, and Heat Culture

The Ringer Gambling Show

The Hundred: Presenting Our Best NBA Bets Every Day Through the Finals

View all stories in NBA