Ode to a Whack-a-Mole

Marty writes:

I took the mallet to you and your friends
Paying a toll to the house where you live
You somehow survived while they met their ends
They took it for you, how could they forgive?
No one but me noticed your secret trick
Just as certain doom loomed over your head
And my weapon was poised to smash your skull
My score froze when you ducked, you little prick
If I had a gun instead, you’d be dead
I hate you - you never-been-whacked-a-mole