I was going through my old file folders yesterday, and I discovered this absolute gem of poetry. It’s rather terrible, quite absurd, and has a moral which is totally incorrect and should definitely never be learned by any child ever. Cringe and enjoy!
A Toothbrush’s Tale
Fred the toothbrush was a sorry sight,
For his toothbrush friends knew not his sad plight.
This young little toothbrush was unhappy, you see,
His plastic casing oppressed him; he sought to be free!
“But Fred,” his mother said, “That’s quite absurd,”
“All toothbrushes are plastic, haven’t you heard?
I love you, my son, but to be quite frank,
Your mental skills I couldn’t take to the bank.”
Disheartened and miserable, Fred looked away,
And resolved to leave town the very next day.
Away from Toothbrushia little Fred would fly,
For hope gave him wings, much like a pie.
Far past the Cheesecake Mountains he flew,
Dodging the cavities, root canals, and goo,
Then to Toffee Lake, that abominable mess,
Delight of little children, but alas, I digress.
Finally came our hero to a castle on the sand,
Where, waving from the window, was a tiny old man.
“Come, little toothbrush, I can help you!”
Cried the old man, sitting on the loo.
Eagerly young Fred alighted at his side,
“I hate being plastic,” the poor toothbrush cried.
“Don’t worry!” the man said, “That form’s such a joke!
Soon you’ll metamorphize into an oak!”
“An oak?” Fred stammered. “But what can that be?”
“Why, you silly toothbrush, an oak is a tree!”
“But I don’t want to be wooden,” the toothbrush said.
“Don’t worry,” the man chuckled, “it’s like being dead.”
Terrified, poor Fred ran for the door,
But the old man pinned him via two-by-four.
“Abracadabra!” he cackled with glee.
And just like that, Fred turned into a tree.
The good folks of Toothbrushia soon forget Fred had left,
They cried for a while, but they weren’t very bereft.
So you see, little children, the point of this story,
Don’t complain, and don’t whine, or you’ll be sorry.
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