The Tale of Spaghetti Pizza

As I have mentioned before, I am a huge fan of children’s literature. Last year I had an idea for a short story-poem about Spaghetti Pizza. I finally took the time to write it down. I hope you like it.

 

 

The Tale of Spaghetti Pizza

 

The day that Mr. Noodle died,

The whole of Weville mourned and cried,

And citizens began to fear,

Because the future wasn’t clear.

For Mr. Noodle’s factory,

-The Pizza Pasta Saucery-

Was the heart and life of town,

And all the people therein found.

 

The papers spread the news abroad,

Dead Noodle’s will was rather odd,

And would be read at half-past three,

In the square by Mayor Shmee.

The town assembled in the square.

The folks all hoped to win their share.

The Mayor Shmee, a rotund man,

First cleared his throat and then began:

 

“The will of Mr. William V.

Arthur Noodle:” (read by me)

States, “To the folks of Weville West,

I bequeath my very best,

Dough producing factory.

Please accept this gift from me.

The West folks gave a mighty cheer,

And all the East folks strained to hear.

“And to the folks of Weville East, a gift from me,

To you I give my Saucery.”

The cheer erupted, shoutings rose,

The Town Square meeting reached its close.

 

Each half of Weville went to work,

Except for little Maisy Merk,

She went to the park across from the square,

With all of the children to meet and play there,

While all of the grown-ups slaved away,

Hour by hour and then day by day.

And soon the East was sick of their sauce.

(Would eating some noodles be such a loss?)

And folks of the West each meal thought “Gee,

I do miss tomato sauce, Yes-sir-ee.”

 

But each was too proud to bow down to trade,

The East even put on a Sauce-themed parade.

The West, in response, threw a Dough Festival,

With crust and bland noodles for West-siders all.

 

Yet still the kids met to play in the park,

From Breakfast to lunchtime until it got dark,

Most kids, like their parents, refused to trade,

Except for Miss Merk and Timothy Tade.

And there in the mist that cool summer’s day,

Maisy and Timothy shared anyway.

Together they ate their brand-new lunch food.

Each took a bite. They smiled as they chewed.

Spaghetti Pizza was born in the sun.

And soon other children had joined in the fun.

 

The parents found out, and boy, were they mad!

They hoped this new food-stuff was only a fad.

It wasn’t a fad and it started to grow.

People thought, “I guess I’ll give it a go.”

So Spaghetti Pizza wore down the prides,

Of the people of Weville- East and West sides.

 

And round Mayor Shmee decided to host,

A carnival fair for what he loved most-

For sharing and caring and shouting “Hurrah!”

For the uniting power of Spaghetti Pizza.

For friendship for family and humility,

And Mr. Noodle’s old food factory.

 

-M.M.

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