The Little Monster, Part 1
LITTLE MONSTER
Toby was the kind of boy
Who’d try to break your favorite toy.
He’d flush your hamster down the loo
And tell your mother it was you.
He’d pinch your arm and kick your shin
And swear that’s what you did to him.
The kind of lad who on the double,
Gets you in all sorts of trouble.
One night as Toby lay in bed
He heard a noise and raised his head.
He was certain he could hear
A growl that sounded rather near.
“A burglar!” Toby told himself
“Come to steal my worldly wealth!”
He didn’t want to lose his stuff
So thinking he’d be brave and tough
He crossed the room and grabbed his sword
(That plastic one he stole from Claude).
He tried to find his meanest voice
And shouted, “Thief you have no choice.
Get out now, but leave your bag.
I will have your sack of swag.
I bet there’s stuff in there I’d like,
Tell me, did you steal a bike?”
A rustle came from quite near by
Closely followed by a sigh
And from beneath the bed there came
A monster looking quite ashamed.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you
It isn’t what I meant to do.
I’ve lived beneath your bed for years
‘Til you discovered I was here.”
“This is great!” the boy exclaimed.
“A beastie to be mashed and maimed.
If I slay you I’ll look fantastic,
Prepare, foul thing, to taste my plastic.”
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This was just too long to submit as one poem I'm afraid so check out The Little Monster Part 2.
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Copyright © Rufus Reed | Year Posted 2011
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