Mothers plea, “Play nice awhile.”
You see, new friends are such a trial.
Being nice takes all my guile
So as they pinch and punch, I only sweetly smile.
At last my new friend paused and said,
“Enough! Let’s swap some secret things instead!
I have a monster, he lives beside my shed
But at times he sleeps beneath my bed.”
“Sorry, no,” said I and looked at the floor
Then I stood and pulled shut the door,
“I am, it seems, an awful bore,
But I promised, you see, no never, no more.”
“Let’s have it, you baby, you pussy!” he said.
Well, some stories follow, yet others are led.
“No, there is no monster beneath my bed,
Mine, he lives just here, inside my head.”
Fast as a flash I have his hair and smell his dread
the razor so true, his flesh it spread
I giggled, “A monster that lives in your shed…?”
And played in the spray as he bled and he bled and he bled.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 