My feet, my feet,I love my feet.I think they’re great,I think they’re neat.They’re pretty, pink,and picturesque.They look so perfecton my desk.Unfortunately,sad to tell,they also havea funny smell.So though I’m fast,and though I’m fleet,and though at sportsI can’t be beat,no team will pickme to compete,because they alwayssmell defeat.
Ogden Myers spun his tires,he loved to squeal and skid them.He liked to make black tire marks,though traffic laws forbid them.The screeching noise, the pouring smoke,he thought it quite a sport,until police arrested himand dragged him off to court.Before the judge he cried and cried,all teary-eyed and blubbery,but though he wailed, he still got jailed –the charge was “highway rubbery.”
I think my dad is Dracula.I know that sounds insane,but listen for a moment andallow me to explain.We don’t live in a castle,and we never sleep in caves.But, still, there’s something weirdabout the way my dad behaves.I never see him go outin the daytime when it’s light.He sleeps all day till evening,then he leaves the house at night.He comes home in the morningsaying, “Man, I’m really dead!”He kisses us goodnight, and thenby sunrise he’s in bed.My mom heard my suspicionand she said, “You’re not too swift.Your father’s not a vampire.He just works the graveyard shift.”
My book report is due today.I haven’t finished yet.In fact, I haven’t started,which I’m coming to regret.I haven’t even read the book.I put it off so long.I thought I’d have a lot of time.It looks like I was wrong.I’d ask my older brotherwhat this book is all about,but he’s already left for schooland cannot help me out.I’d hustle to the movie storeand rent the DVD,but I don’t even have the timeto watch it on TV.I guess I’ll have to fake itand pretend I read the book.Then write a bunch of nonsenseand assorted gobbledygook.It’s either that, or do the thingmy conscience knows is right:I’ll claim I’m sick and stay at homeand finish it tonight.
I’m feeling rather full tonight.I couldn’t eat another bite.I couldn’t eat a half a bean,or even taste a tangerine.I couldn’t lick a lettuce leafor bite the slightest bit of beef.I couldn’t polish off a peaor sip a single drop of teaor nibble on a nanogramof pickled ham or candied yamor lamb or clam or jam or Spam.Yes, that’s how full I truly am.To even think of eating morewould leave me lying on the floorand surely make my stomach hurtunless, of course, you’ve got dessert.
Don’t ever dine with Frankenstein;He feasts on flaming turpentine.He chomps and chews on soles of shoes,and quaffs down quarts of oily ooze.At suppertime he’ll slurp some slime.He’s known to gnaw on gristly grime.His meals of mud and crispy crudwill curl your hair and chill your blood.His poison, pungent, putrid snacksmay cause you seizures and attacks.Your hair may turn completely white.You may pass out or scream in fright.Your skin will crawl.Your throat will burn.Your eyes will bulge.Your guts will churn.Your teeth will clench.Your knees will shake.Your hands will sweat.Your brain will bake.You’ll cringe and cry.You’ll moan and whine.You’ll feel a chillrun down your spine.You’ll lose your lunch.You’ll lose your head.So come…and dine with ME instead.
Today I Got a Valentinefrom everyone but Kay.But that’s alright…I never liked her that much anyway.She never trades her Oreos.She isn’t good at catch.She doesn’t like my favorite bands.Her socks don’t often match.She doesn’t play computer games.She wears her hair in braids.She’s something of a teacher’s petand always gets good grades.She dots her i’s with little hearts.She’s always reading books.Whenever I’m around, she gives mesuch confusing looks.But, oh my goodness, here comes Kay,and what is this I see?It seems she has an extra specialValentine for me.It’s big and red has the words”Will you be mine today?”I always said there’s no one elseI like as much as Kay.
Dear Santa, here’s my Christmas list.I hope you’ll bring it all.I’ve only asked for gifts my parentscan’t find at the mall.I’d like to have a UFO,with aliens inside,and maybe a Tyrannosaurus Rexthat I could ride.A ninety-nine foot robotis a present I could use.I’ll also need a time machine,and rocket-powered shoes.Please bring a gentle geniewho will grant my every wish,and don’t forget a wizard’s wand,and, yes, a talking fish.Of course, I’ll need a unicorn,and won’t you please providea dragon, and a castlein the English countryside.Of course, the weight of all these thingsmight cause your sleigh to crash.If that’s the case, dear Santa,please feel free to just bring cash.
Amanda ate an orangeand an olive and a peach.Since then her teacher always keepsthe crayons out of reach.
