Timmy had a sister and his sister’s name was Fong.
Timmy, who was older, thought his sister’s hair was long.
So Timmy grabbed some pruning shears a-lying next to him
And went into his sisters room to give her hair a trim.
He started cutting on the top and then moved to the back.
The pruning shears went “snick-itty snick” and “clip-itty clip” and “hack”.
But Timmy grew a bit perturbed and thought about just leavin’
Because the haircut he gave Fong was sloppy and uneven.
The top was clean. The back, precise. The bangs, without a flaw.
It was the sides of Fong’s new “do” that stuck in Timmy’s craw.
So Timmy thought and Timmy smiled and Timmy grabbed the shears
And cured his sister’s cock-eyed hair by snipping off her ears.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Refuting The Existence Of Certain Mythical Personas Your Parents Insist Are Real
It’s not the Sandman sprinklin’ dust
It’s tears and dirt that make eye crust.
The Boogey Man will top this list
Because he simply don’t exist.
Another lie is the Easter Bunny.
(I don’t know why they think he’s funny.)
And frozen water condensation
Is the Jack Frost explanation.
But the one that lives and is truly scary
Is the vicious, rabid, fanged Tooth Fairy.
It’s tears and dirt that make eye crust.
The Boogey Man will top this list
Because he simply don’t exist.
Another lie is the Easter Bunny.
(I don’t know why they think he’s funny.)
And frozen water condensation
Is the Jack Frost explanation.
But the one that lives and is truly scary
Is the vicious, rabid, fanged Tooth Fairy.
Mr. Craigs Fables: The Other Muffin Man
Thirteen years ago last Tuesday,…………….
Mrs. Glickman opened up her oven door and peeked inside.
“Oh good-y,” she smiled. “They’re done.”
She put on her big, purple oven mitts, reached into the stove and pulled out a pan filled with freshly baked, blueberry muffins.
Smelling the sweet, fruity muffins, Mrs. Glickman placed the hot pan on top of the stove and left the kitchen to give them time to cool.
When she returned 10 minutes later, she noticed that one of the muffins was missing.
“That’s odd,” she said out loud. “I wonder what happened to the muffin.”
“Hah, haa! Wouldn’t you like to know, you big dummy,” said a mocking voice that came from the stove top.
Mrs. Glickman looked down and stood shocked and still when out from behind the tea kettle walked the missing blueberry muffin.
There was a long period of quiet as Mrs. Glickman stared at the little muffin on the stove.
“What are you looking at, Stupid Head,” sneered the muffin.
Mrs. Glickman couldn’t believe she was staring at a walking, talking muffin. Or at how impolite the muffin was.
“What?” shouted the muffin. “You’ve never seen a blueberry muffin before?” The muffin then stuck its tongue out at her.
Mrs. Glickman frowned at the rude, little muffin. She then reached out her hand to pick it up and place it back in the muffin pan with the other muffins who didn’t walk or talk nasty.
“Hey!” screamed the muffin. “Don’t touch me!”
When Mrs. Glickman pulled back her hand, the bad muffin laughed, turned around and wiggled his rear end in her direction.
Then it made “poopie” noises at her.
Mrs. Glickman had had enough of the bad mannered muffin. She reached down and quickly grabbed the muffin as it tried to run back behind the tea kettle.
She then peeled the paper wrapper from around the wriggling, little muffin.
“What are you doing?!?” screamed the muffin. “Why are you taking off my clothes?!?”
With the paper covering removed, Mrs. Glickman then raised the shrieking, little muffin up to her mouth and took a big bite out of it.
As she chewed the mouthful of muffin, the yelling stopped and she got to enjoy the fruity tasting muffin in peace and quiet.
And it was the best tasting muffin she ever ate.
Mrs. Glickman opened up her oven door and peeked inside.
“Oh good-y,” she smiled. “They’re done.”
She put on her big, purple oven mitts, reached into the stove and pulled out a pan filled with freshly baked, blueberry muffins.
Smelling the sweet, fruity muffins, Mrs. Glickman placed the hot pan on top of the stove and left the kitchen to give them time to cool.
When she returned 10 minutes later, she noticed that one of the muffins was missing.
“That’s odd,” she said out loud. “I wonder what happened to the muffin.”
“Hah, haa! Wouldn’t you like to know, you big dummy,” said a mocking voice that came from the stove top.
Mrs. Glickman looked down and stood shocked and still when out from behind the tea kettle walked the missing blueberry muffin.
There was a long period of quiet as Mrs. Glickman stared at the little muffin on the stove.
“What are you looking at, Stupid Head,” sneered the muffin.
Mrs. Glickman couldn’t believe she was staring at a walking, talking muffin. Or at how impolite the muffin was.
“What?” shouted the muffin. “You’ve never seen a blueberry muffin before?” The muffin then stuck its tongue out at her.
Mrs. Glickman frowned at the rude, little muffin. She then reached out her hand to pick it up and place it back in the muffin pan with the other muffins who didn’t walk or talk nasty.
“Hey!” screamed the muffin. “Don’t touch me!”
When Mrs. Glickman pulled back her hand, the bad muffin laughed, turned around and wiggled his rear end in her direction.
Then it made “poopie” noises at her.
Mrs. Glickman had had enough of the bad mannered muffin. She reached down and quickly grabbed the muffin as it tried to run back behind the tea kettle.
She then peeled the paper wrapper from around the wriggling, little muffin.
“What are you doing?!?” screamed the muffin. “Why are you taking off my clothes?!?”
With the paper covering removed, Mrs. Glickman then raised the shrieking, little muffin up to her mouth and took a big bite out of it.
As she chewed the mouthful of muffin, the yelling stopped and she got to enjoy the fruity tasting muffin in peace and quiet.
And it was the best tasting muffin she ever ate.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Babies pt. I
Very tiny, little folks
With wretched walking talents.
Their mouths stay open when they walk.
They use the drool for balance.
With wretched walking talents.
Their mouths stay open when they walk.
They use the drool for balance.
Mr. Craig's Fables: The Story of Fatty Ham Cat
Not long ago in a town just over there,………
there lived a cat that looked just how a cat should look. He had two pointy ears, a long tail, a little pink tongue and he was furry. But there were two things that made this cat just a little bit different.
One thing was this cat was very, VERY fat.
And the second thing was this cat smelled like ham.
So people called him………..Fatty Ham Cat.
Fatty Ham Cat liked to eat.
Fatty Ham Cat liked to sleep.
And Fatty Ham Cat liked to dream.
One day, Fatty Ham Cat woke up from a great dream, ate breakfast and went for a walk. And everywhere that Fatty Ham Cat went, people were not very nice to him.
They said things like, “Ew!”
And “Gross!”
And “Yuck! You smell like ham!”
This made Fatty Ham Cat mad.
“What’s the big deal!” he yelled. “I smell like ham! So what?!? It could be worse! I could smell like cheese underpants!”
So Fatty Ham Cat went out each day to do his cat chores knowing that people didn’t like the way he smelled.
That Thursday while he stood in line at the sock store, Fatty Ham Cat noticed something unusual.
The lady behind him wasn’t complaining that he smelled like ham.
In fact, she was standing very close to him and smelling him and smiling.
When she noticed what she was doing she apologized.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just love the smell of ham.”
“You do?” said Fatty Ham Cat.
“Yes. How would you like to come live with me?” she asked.
“What would I have to do?” asked Fatty Ham Cat.
“Oh, nothing. Just sleep and dream and eat the food I make you. All you would have to do is smell like ham.”
“I can sure do that!” exclaimed Fatty Ham Cat.
So Fatty Ham Cat went home with the woman and she made him a big batch of mouse cakes for dinner.
And as Fatty Ham Cat slept and dreamed, the lady sniffed him and smiled.
there lived a cat that looked just how a cat should look. He had two pointy ears, a long tail, a little pink tongue and he was furry. But there were two things that made this cat just a little bit different.
One thing was this cat was very, VERY fat.
And the second thing was this cat smelled like ham.
So people called him………..Fatty Ham Cat.
Fatty Ham Cat liked to eat.
Fatty Ham Cat liked to sleep.
And Fatty Ham Cat liked to dream.
One day, Fatty Ham Cat woke up from a great dream, ate breakfast and went for a walk. And everywhere that Fatty Ham Cat went, people were not very nice to him.
They said things like, “Ew!”
And “Gross!”
And “Yuck! You smell like ham!”
This made Fatty Ham Cat mad.
“What’s the big deal!” he yelled. “I smell like ham! So what?!? It could be worse! I could smell like cheese underpants!”
So Fatty Ham Cat went out each day to do his cat chores knowing that people didn’t like the way he smelled.
That Thursday while he stood in line at the sock store, Fatty Ham Cat noticed something unusual.
The lady behind him wasn’t complaining that he smelled like ham.
In fact, she was standing very close to him and smelling him and smiling.
When she noticed what she was doing she apologized.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just love the smell of ham.”
“You do?” said Fatty Ham Cat.
“Yes. How would you like to come live with me?” she asked.
“What would I have to do?” asked Fatty Ham Cat.
“Oh, nothing. Just sleep and dream and eat the food I make you. All you would have to do is smell like ham.”
“I can sure do that!” exclaimed Fatty Ham Cat.
So Fatty Ham Cat went home with the woman and she made him a big batch of mouse cakes for dinner.
And as Fatty Ham Cat slept and dreamed, the lady sniffed him and smiled.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Monsters in Your House: The Pant-a-Loon
The Pant-a-Loon lives in your pants and in your leiderhosen.
It’s thin and soft and lives wrapped up inside the pants you’ve chosen.
It slithers in a pants leg, either left one or the right ones.
Its favorites are the baggy kind and always shuns the tight ones.
The Pant-a-Loon sleeps patiently until you put on slacks
And then the flat and sneaky beast awakens and attacks.
The way you beat the Pant-a-Loon and not end up its food?
You simply must take off your pants and walk around half-nude.
It’s thin and soft and lives wrapped up inside the pants you’ve chosen.
It slithers in a pants leg, either left one or the right ones.
Its favorites are the baggy kind and always shuns the tight ones.
The Pant-a-Loon sleeps patiently until you put on slacks
And then the flat and sneaky beast awakens and attacks.
The way you beat the Pant-a-Loon and not end up its food?
You simply must take off your pants and walk around half-nude.
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