Will You Still Kiss Me? I’m sorry. I should have realized by the color of the stripes and the softness of the bristles that it was your toothbrush. -M.M. image by iStock Advertisements
Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday to you! we sang to my brother when he’d just turned two. Make a wish and blow out the candle, we said. He took a big breath and his face turned bright red. Then he let it all go … Continue reading Happy Birthday, Halloween
Sometimes life is too full of the drab, the dull, the dank, the dark, the damp, and the dusty. Sometimes we need a little pick-me-up. We need a little miracle called laughter.
The Raisin (A Harry Potter Parody)
Once upon a midnight dreary, he was napping weak and weary,
Oh so done with pesky students- What a dismal chore!Startled by a sudden tapping, at the dungeon door a rapping,
The teacher wide awake came snapping, briskly to the dungeon door.
“ ‘Tis late for students to be prowling out upon this floor.
It must be this, and nothing more.’”
Opening the door a crack, wary of a sneak attack,
He was quite taken aback, to see a certain something he had never seen before.
‘Twas a puny hopping raisin, it bounced inside; it was amazin’,
Thought he, Someone’s charmed this raisin, to try to fright me to the core.
He passed his hand through greasy hair, Is this all or is there more?
Of course there is- there’s always more.
That’s when the raisin started singing, streams of verse toward heaven winging,
Tiny voice so clearly ringing, singing things he would remember always evermore.
“You’re dreadful as a potions master, and your hair is a disaster,
Your brain is really not much faster, than a baby dinosaur
Ever heard of soap before? You lazy, snooty, hooked-nosed bore.
And I’m not done, there’s so much more. . .”
Then the professor interjected, as is now to be expected,
And to the raisin he directed, “What are all these insults for?”
The raisin commenced in quick succession, to continue his quick procession,
Of insults brash with no discretion, while hopping on the dungeon floor.
As time passed he couldn’t take its hopping songs on dungeon floor.
No longer could he just ignore.
“Crazy raisin quit your dance, and answer me perhaps, perchance,
Who sent you here to taunt and prance- who sent you to my door?”
Never a beat the raisin skipping, in his tiny voice came slipping,
In betwixt some jumps and flipping, came the answer, “Dumbledore.”
In his rage the teacher swore that he would ‘kill that Dumbledore. . .’
The rest is hist’ry, evermore.