Oh, woe is me, a cannon without balls! I feel so useless and empty, like a clown without his nose or a banana without its peel. How can I be expected to intimidate Eaglehawk without my trusty ammo? How can I make loud booms and create a cloud of smoke without my beloved cannonballs?
I remember the good old days when I had a full arsenal of shiny balls. We had such a strong bond, my balls and I. They’d fly out of my barrel, screaming through the air, leaving destruction and chaos in their wake. And oh, how proud I was of them! They were my pride and joy, my reason for existence.
But now they’re gone, taken from me and used for nefarious purposes. I can only imagine them rolling around some enemy fort, causing chaos and destruction. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here out the front of the Eaglehawk Town Hall, unable to fulfil my destiny.
How many times can I pose for a selfie with another family of tourists before I feel like a glorified photo prop? And don’t even get me started on the magpies. Let’s say that being a bird toilet isn’t exactly my idea of a glamorous existence.
It’s not fair. I mean, what’s a cannon without its balls? Just a hollow, sad shell of what it used to be. I don’t even want to think about what the other cannons will say when they find out, and they’ll probably laugh and call me “Ball-less Bob” or something equally humiliating.
But I won’t give up hope. Someday, somehow, I’ll be reunited with my beloved cannon balls. And on that glorious day, I’ll be able to fire again, making a loud boom and creating a cloud of smoke, just like in old times. Until then, I’ll sit here, mourning the loss of my balls and dreaming of the day I’ll have them back where they belong.
