The Hub

Mother says I cannot shout
She insists I shouldn’t pout
I oughtn’t belch, I mustn’t tease,
I absolutely must say please

But father yells and makes a fuss
And is also prone to cuss
He mopes about, he moans and groans —
In the most unpleasant tones
He grunts and yawns and loudly farts,
Scratching at his private parts
“Please” he’ll almost always say
In the most sarcastic way

He and mother often fight
Compared to him, I’m quite alright

Note: This does not at all represent my childhood or my father in any way.

“Old Chris Columbus was a fraud —
Our planet can’t be round
The ground looks flat, but really curves?
That logic isn’t sound!”

This I remarked as I set out
With just one goal in aim:
I’d travel to the edge of Earth
To verify my claim

Too young to drive my mother’s car,
Too poor to go by plane,
I chose instead to go by foot —
Though Dad thought it insane

I followed a straight line — one time
Right through a traffic jam
And when I came upon a shore
I held my breath and swam

My travels took me far and wide,
Through France and Ecuador,
Iceland, Yemen, and Belize
(My “straight” path rather poor)

Till finally I found myself
Adjacent to my house

    …if or if not the earth is flat,
    Chris C. is still a louse

Please forgive my manners — I’ve been feeling rather blerk
(The feeling that you have inside when nothing seems to work)
Blippy is, if we’re comparing, not at all a bummer
It’s when you find that favorite toy you thought you lost last summer
Being soaked with rain feels glicky; zwee is caused by cake —
But eat too much and you will have a jwuckal stomach ache
Happy, sad, they’re far too simple for the feelings in my head
I’d list some more, but I feel snoodle, and so I’m off to bed

Please forgive my manners — I’ve been feeling rather blerk
(The feeling that you have inside when nothing seems to work)
Blippy is, by contrast, the feeling you enjoy
When you finally find a once misplaced and favorite toy
Being soaked with rain feels glicky; zwee is caused by cake —
But eat too much and you will have a gloortchal stomach ache
Happy, sad, they’re far too simple for the feelings in my head
I’d list some more, but I feel snoodle, and am off to bed

It’s in desperate need of workshopping, but that’s what today’s class is for.

Hey-dally-cheer!
What have we here?
Little Mark, Tom, Bill, and Mary
Hey-dally-ho!
Where did they go?
They thought that your greeting was scary

Clunk goes my mom’s car
Thump goes my pop’s
We may not drive far
But the music’s just tops

I saw a man across the way
He rode a silver mare
A ring of golden strands of hay
Was tied up in his hair

I asked where he had come from,
And to where he was heading
He said it only mattered some,
For hay-hair was his bedding

Spiders, crickets, worms, and slugs
As many as Todd wishes
Dragonflies and ladybugs
He thinks that they’re delicious!

Everybody should read The Hunting of the Snark. Lewis Carroll was the man.

Because so long as I’m in this class, that’s what you’ll be seeing more of.

Andrew Van McRattle-Pan
Pulled on the tail of his cat
A swipe of the paw,
A scratch from a claw
And that was the end of that