by Aunt Jen, for my nephew Christopher, from the archives
My name is Sir Christopher Grillo
And I once owned a pet armadillo
Everywhere I went, why, Jed would go too
Till Miss Carol caught on and cried, “Shoo, you!”
At first I felt sad, then I felt mad,
Lastly, I cried on my pillow
Until I came up with an alternate plan
That would prove who was king of the Hill-o
After talking it over with Greg and with Nick
(My favorite partners in grime)
We simply decreed I would just trade Jed in
For a gun shooting strings of blue slime.
As I mentioned the swap to my family that night
Over nuggets the shape of steam engines
From the edge of my plate stared a side dish I hate:
Veggies disguised as stick penguins.
Both mother and father, and wee brother Jus
Are aware I’m no fan of asparagus
So this time they served it, I point-, shot- and squirted
Till blue goo turned everyone’s hair a mess.
With my hands on my ears, and eyes filled with tears
I screamed, “Fruit Loops and pizza--or else!”
At that mom complied, while my poor father sighed,
“Could goo taste any worse than my head smells?”
At bedtime that night, I just didn’t feel right
Though I’m usually good and light-hearted
You might say I fretted, or even regretted
The mess ammo-‘dillo trading had started.