C1nderellaMan

I can't think! My poems stink! My rhymes just stare blankly and seldomly blink. My writing is crabby, my citing is flabby My verses were cursed by my three year old tabby. "Not feeling inspired?" my doctor inquired, "Maybe your muse feels abused and retired?" "Here are some pills, they're crunchy and pink. Take two at bedtime with plenty of drink! By morning your musings will bandage their bruising. Your rhymes will be chiming and bouncing and cruising!" "He's a real pro." I thoughtfully thinked. Munching on meds I then said, "All right pink, let's cure my write crisis and restock my ink!" As late evening crept, I slept and I dreamed. I s

Kathy Kerfuffle produced a great bubble while chewing on grape flavored gum. Her friends were amazed, acquaintances dazed and even her teacher was stunned. As Kathy was beaming and gloating and gleaming she failed to remember the rule: Bad boys are jokers and pencils are pokers so don't blow great bubbles in school!

It's time to trim this bushy beard. Can't find my chin- its disappeared! A grungy sheep I never sheared. Wily whiskers grow like weeds. "Tame that beast!" the family pleads. Finally, my sloth concedes. I gathered scissors, blades and combs. I bought some Face-Nick's Healing Foam. I prep'd for paleface worlds unknown. With ninja blur I sliced and chopped! The whiskers snowed! I swept and mopped, repeated twice before I stopped. When the chin-fuzz all had settled, I felt so fit so firm and fettled! My nose was high my rose was petaled! Bursting forth with baby-bounce, I cleared my throat and then announced "Reduced the grunge nearly an ou

don't just stand there make yourself useful make yourself obedient make yourself worthy of praise get some better shoes and step into my fire