Cozy Tips & Reads for Attic Bedrooms

Attic rooms have always been an intriguing setting in literature. What better place is there for a small child to hide from an evil step-father and find a magic portal to another world or to lock-up embarrassing and crazy aunts? Since these draughty spaces tend to be freezing in the winter and broiling hot in the summer, the attic is also a handy place for housing the servants and poor relations.

My bedroom is upstairs in the attic of our old-timer house. In the winter, it does indeed get bloody cold. But we manage because we really pile on the coverings for our bed. We have six blankets, including a down duvet. It also helps to wear fluffy socks to bed. Another great discovery is the ultra-fantastic-auto-shut-off heating pad. Every night, just before my bedtime, I tuck my heating pad into the sheets and turn it on. Heavenly warmth!

Reading in bed used to pose another problem. While I could keep the rest myself warm under the multiple covers, my hands and forearms turned to ice while holding my book. I solved this problem by wearing leg-warmers. On my arms, that is. I got some cozy striped ones from the dollar store. These things are not sexy but they do help!

Here are some book suggestions that feature attic bed/rooms:

Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood

The House of Reckoning by John Saul

Flowers in the Attic by VC Andrews

What's Bred in the Bone by Robertson Davies

For the young at heart:

Jesse's Star by Ellen Schwartz

The Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Secret in the Old Attic a Nancy Drew Mystery by Carolyn Keen

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone By JK Rowling

(there's all kinds of rooms in the Potter books, such as closets, attics, chambers, towers, etc.)

Schadenfreude

Schadenfreude

A noun. From German Schadenfreude, from Schaden (“damage, harm”) + Freude (“joy”)

Malicious enjoyment derived from observing someone else's misfortune.

Source: en.wiktionary.org/wiki/schadenfreude

Schadenfreude pronounced 'sharden-froid-eh'. I first learned this word from reading Will Ferguson's hilarious book Happiness. It comes to mind again when I think of the now former Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak. There is no English version of Schadenfreude, so you can go around saying it to your heart's content and not be accused of sounding pretentious (or German).

Teen Trap

Puberty Boo: Hey Mom, I have philosophical question for you.

Mom: {apprehensive} Uh, yes Boo?

Puberty Boo: If you had to choose between the life of a really fat man and the lives of two innocent children which would you choose?

Mom: Can you elaborate, dear?

Puberty Boo: Say the kids are on a railway track and the only way to stop the train from mowing them down is to push the fat man in front in the kids.

Mom: Why not push the kids off the track instead of pushing the fat man on and so no one dies? Besides a fat man would not be enough to stop a train. Both he and the kids would get squished together.

Puberty Boo: Mom! {impatient, now} The kids are trapped on the track! They can't move! Say the fat man is sooo fat that he could indeed stop the train with his fatness annnd there is nothing else around to stop the train.

Mom: {sighs} OK, so I guess I'll have to shove the fat man in front of the train to save the innocent children then.

Puberty Boo: Then you're no better than Hitler, you know.

Mom: Whaaa...?

Puberty Boo: That was how Hitler saw the situation in Germany and how he justified genocide.

Mom: Boo, don't you have homework?

Puberty Boo: {to sister in other room} Hey, Mom is just like Hitler! {leaves room}

End of Scene

Lofty Thoughts From Puberty Boo

I hate armpits and the word armpit. Please refrain from mentioning the word in my presence. However, I do like the word squid -jigger. I think I will name my next pet or boyfriend Squid-jigger. It's really cute.

Some Old Cartoon Stuff from My Portfolio

Eight government workers to plant a baby tree (tax dollars well spent!)

Fond memories of a McJob

Cyclist Planet

A restaurant generous on carbs

Home Game

Fashion; Canada Style

Home Invasions by Stephen Harper Thwarted!

Stephen and birdish henchman

Nasty little beggar.

Steve and his gang were continuously breaking into our roof and having nightly brawls in our attic. They screeched and scratched and thumped all night long. My husband on several occasions, hauled the ladder to each side of the house to look for where they got in. But he could not ever find the breech that allowed them entrance. We endured months of their noisy nightly partying right above our bedroom. I think that we were only separated by drywall. I had nightly fears that they'd gnaw their way through and land scrapping on top of our heads! Or worse pooping on top of our heads. Well, thank goodness for sharp neighbours. Russ, the guy next door, spotted the illegals slipping under a few raised shingles on our roof and he alerted us. My husband nailed the sucker shut during the day while Stephen and Co. played outside and, finally, we we are now squirrel-free. But we must always be on our guard...Stephen is insiduously clever and will likely be back!

Olympic Morning

Ouch.
My fingers are still smarting from attaching my big Canadian flag to the very prickly holly tree at the side of my driveway. There are now little gashes all over my knuckles!
It was worth it though. How many people get to watch the Olympic torch bearers from their own yard... and not only from the front at 10:30 (Royal Avenue), but also from the the side at noon (2nd Street)? I put up the flag on the 2nd Street side so it could be viewed by the Olympic procession as it came down the street. The prickly bush was the best vantage point.

I was quite not ready for the 10:30 passing, but as I was eating my Fibre 1 cereal this morning, I could hear a loud racket from the 'Coke' trucks coming from Royal Ave. I threw down my cereal and grabbed my (conveniently) red wool coat and my new camera. I did get some shots of the bearded torch bearer as he came up Royal and passed 2nd Street. I was unable to figure out in time how to zoom back in time to get a closer shot (new camera jitters).

At about 10:50, I went to Queens Park to watch the Lighting Ceremony. Whoa! there must have been thousands of people there! I got some shots of the crowd, and some shots of Krista Gibbard, a family friend and neighbour, who was selected to to sing the national anthem (she was great!). I decided to head back to my house as I wanted to be ready to take pictures of the new torch bearer when she passed our home. On the way, I was lucky enough to pose with a couple torch bearers. Laura Cuthbert ( a wonderful gal with the best civic spirit you could ever imagine) was one of the torch bearers and kindly took a picture of me holding her torch.

Finally at home, around noon, the loud 'Coke' trucks drove by with their exuberant dancing models, from which shouts of appreciation for my holly tree flag, were expressed. Well, I'm glad somebody noticed! When the torch bearers came down my block, I managed to get some decent shots. One actually in front of my house with the prickly flag! I followed the procession to Royal and 2nd St. and got some more there as well. I was finally getting the feel of my camera. All in all, it was pretty exhilarating morning. The only drawback was I was by myself and had no one to share it with!

I should've put polysporin on my cuts; there little red dots all over them now. Oh, well.

I Am Human Wallpaper

Last Tuesday, I braved skytraining into pre-Olympic downtown Vancouver to visit a talent agency. Yes, a genuine talent agency. I had a sort-of appointment and everything! Of course, I know your immediate thought is, “Man, has God not granted Theresa more than her fair share of talents, enough already!” But seriously, folks it isn’t like that. I didn’t actually need any real talent to get signed onto this agency.

I signed on to be human wallpaper -also known as a background performer, or an extra for the movie and TV industry.

How I got this low-talent acting bug was by chaperoning my daughter, last month, to the eerie set at the old Riverview Hospital for a locally-shot-but-pretending-to be-an-American-city TV show. My kid was hired to play a wan, thin, pathetic orphan at an orphanage. She was perfect for the role as she is a wan and thin kid. She is, however, not pathetic; she was expertly acting that part.

We were there for the better part of the day (9:00-3:00) and there was a lot waiting around, but there was some great eats to be had. From what I had read, extras are considered the bottom of the food chain in the industry, and therefore, should not always expect to be able to eat with any of the higher-ups from the catering truck. But at this particular set, we were granted this special privilege. Woo-hoo, spaghetti! Even the chaperones were fed. I blew my low-carb diet that day.

My daughter and I came out pretty pleased from the experience. She got to miss a day of school and got paid for it and I got to sit around all day working on some illustration sketches for a client. The pay, though, is nothing to get excited about; it’s about $10 an hour for extras, but for a kid, it’s awesome –and better than babysitting. My kid needs the money. Being a pint-sized fashionista can get expensive.

A couple days later, the agent, Bruce, emailed all the agency members asking, no begging, for extras for a Japanese commercial being shot the following week. Hoping I was Asian enough (French Canadian & Chinese) to pass, I e-sent him my picture. At first it looked good, as the Japanese director was getting desperate enough to take any ol’ Asian, but then it fell through by the weekend. Oh well. Then I brilliantly thought, "Heck, why don’t I just sign up too? After all, I am a freelance illustrator/writer/stay@home-mom, and therefore have a very flexible schedule, and make next to no money anyway, so why not?"

So, last Tuesday was payroll day for the Riverview shoot and I had earlier sent an email to Agent Bruce asking that since they already had my picture in their files, could I sign up when I came by the office to pick my kid’s cheque? Agent Bruce said sure, come sign up! Boy, what a hard sell. And the agency: despite my stereotypical-Hollywood-based preconceptions of what a talent agency would look like (smoky, poorly lit, a worn out couch in the corner) it was a rather pleasant, sunny little office. And instead of my stereotypical-Hollywood-based preconceptions of what a talent agent would be like (swarmy, cigar-smoking, loud-talking) Agent Bruce was an ordinary 30-something dad-of-two-kids kind of guy.

Agent Bruce took a couple photos of me, gave me my kid’s cheque (then I gave him a cheque for the agency’s 15% cut) and I was done like dinner. As I walked back to the train station in the pre-Olympic bustle of the city, I gleefully thought to myself, I have an agent! OK, so Agent Bruce is not a book agent from the publishing industry (a Holy Grail dream of mine) but I can lay claim to an agent now–even if it is for human wallpaper work.

Ode to a Kilt -Happy Belated Birthday Robbie Burns!

Ode to a Kilt

By Theresa Henry-Smith
(good for a toast to the lads)

As a lass, let me tell you
What sets girls afire,
Is a type of wool cloth
That is worn by the squire.

There’s not any question
That a lad is street-smart in
A fine pleated kilt
With his proud family tartan.

We lasses delight
At the gustiest breeze,
As we might catch a glance
Of a masculine knee!

The mystery and wonder
Of what lies underneath,
Gives the kilt its appeal,
And even comic relief!

So kick up your brogans
And let’s toast a wee dram,
As while shorts make the boy,
T’is the kilt makes a man!

Hand Towels and Fart Candles

Hi Folks,

Just a quick note to let you know I am not dead!

We are expecting dinner guests in about 45 minutes and I cannot help but reflect on, yes, hand towels and fart candles.

You know, if you invite people to dinner they are usually just so glad to get a night away from the kids and get a free meal, that for the most part, they really won't quibble about the state of your house. The only exception to this, though, is your bathroom. This is because, especially if you feed your guests a lot of beer, they will be visiting that little room of yours at least once or twice through the evening. As your lady guests sit on the pot, they will no longer be distracted by food and thrilling conversation, so they then have time to really check out your loo. Make sure that all surfaces that can be peered at at sitting-on-toilet level are clean (looking) at the very least.


When you have eaten at other friends' houses, do you always look for the spot on the hand towel provided, for the least likely spot that other guests might have used (yes, those yucky-poopy other guests)? If so, ensure your dinner guests are not left pondering the very same thing about your questionable hand towel. Hang a huge bath towel. Yup, that way they can feel that, somewhat, that they have a good chance of avoiding any cross-guest contamination because there will be more space to wipe on!


What is the fart candle? It is that lovely candle that you put in the loo to eat any of the emissions that can be had in any fine bathroom. It is not for atmosphere. It is to spare your other guests from that one fella who had a burrito at lunch time.

Gotta go light that fart candle now! Bye!

Daytime TV Bites!

OK, who out there just has the time to do this? Besides, other than sneaking in the odd Oprah show when I have to fold laundry, just about everything bites during the day. Most of those daytime time talk shows are warping the minds of our nation’s shut-in seniors. This vulnerable group probably thinks that all their neighbours are cross-dressers, polygamists, or Satanists! And all those ads that are always trying to get you to sign up for Medical Office Assistant School! Is there a shortage of medical office assistants out there, or something?

How do I deal with this?:
I just don’t bother turning the thing on. Life’s too short - and it cuts into my reading time.

Do a Hug Bug

Best way to get to get your teens out the house (and OFF your computer!) during the summer holidays:

When they come into the room, start singing "Four hugs a day! That's the mininum!" and then demand those hugs. At least four, of course. Keep singing till you get those hugs, or until you repel them out of the house.

I love you Charlotte Diamond!

Cheap Trick

This is a letter that I attempted to send to More Magazine regarding an article by Jennifer Allford, The Era of the Frugalista. It is a lite commentary about, because of tighter economic times, cheap now chic, and “frugal is the new black”. If you haven’t already guessed, Frugalista is a play of its antonym, fashionista. I wrote this comment on why I think being cheap has always been the cat’s meow for me. Unfortunately, my letter was too big and it was rejected from the magazine ‘s on-line comment box. Well, I didn’t want to shorten it, so I gave up on giving a More Magazine response. “That’s OK” , I thought, “I’ll just hang on to this and share with you guys.. “

I too, am of the sisterhood of frugality. And it's not just about saving money; it's fun. I cherish the challenge of finding a pair of $120 jeans for $14. I also enjoy giving myself the frugal gift of self reliance. I can colour my own roots and I streak my own hair at home. Last Spring , at a fancy party, I received many compliments on my hair and people kept asking for my hairdresser’s number!

Why so frugal? It's a hangover from my poorer college days. When I actually started getting a paycheque in the working world, I thought, "Why should I have to give up my treasure hunts?" This way of thinking extends well into the larger economic and environmental decisions in my life. When the folks who are now spending a small bomb to furnish their homes with pricey, trendy, modern furniture find it filling up the landfills 20 years from now, my quality, “second hand” antique furniture finds will still be looking great, and likely be worth more than I paid. Is this cheap? No, it's smart! Besides, I’d rather put the time into drawing, writing, or into my vegetable garden -not redecorating my house every five years.

This way of thinking has also helped shape the biggest financial and lifestyle decision of our family’s life: buying a house. We bought a cheaper, smaller home in a great neighbourhood, and we bought “second hand”. Granted, older homes present some challenges in terms of repairs and upgrading, but our 120 year old house is solid and will likely, in the very least, maintain its value, and outlast a lot of the poorly built, more expensive ,“luxury (leaky) condos” being built in BC, these days. And again, the environmental angle favours the frugal; we are not contributing to the tons of waste material produced to build a new home.

Recently, to save money on vacations, I’ve been looking into home exchange holidays. That is, free accommodation in another exchanger’s house in exchange for a free stay at your house. And please note: apparently, an older, cute little home filled with antiques, does attract other potential exchangers!

So be proud, my fellow frugal sisters. Our more thoughtful and careful spending ways teaches us to be more self reliant, environmentally-friendly, and when your friends stop spending long enough to see how happy you are, they may consider becoming “cheaper” too.

Teen Rhyme

The Age of Reason

Teenager, teenager,
Why are you so loud?
Why do you freak out?
To things not allowed.

Why do you get whiney?
And make so much noise,
To my “NO!” to a sleepover,
That includes girls and boys.

Kids Book Reviews!

Hey, I love kids books, and as I hope to publish one myself, one day, I've decided to do the odd kids books review in this blog.

Both of the books I have chosen are not only new, but by first time authors. The writers both, however, have backgrounds in the children’s book industry. I think both their authorial debuts are successful enterprises!

Always

By Ann Stott & illustrated by David Phelan
1st Edition, Published by Candlewick Press
Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA
Early Picture Book, ages 3 and under

Ann Stott’s background is in book design and so she was likely well prepared for her first book which was inspired by her mischievous youngest son. One day, after a day of reprimands by mom, he asked her “Do you still love me?” The author then realized, “...how important it was for him to hear I love him, no matter what he did.”

As a mom who has also dealt with a mischievous child, I can relate to how funny and trying a child can be when testing the boundaries of her parents love. For the child, the story offers up some funny and familiar scenarios that reassures her that she is not the only child, in the world, who has ever been naughty or forgetful. The simple and tender way the author shows that a parent’s love is unwavering, no matter what, is a comforting message to all small children.

As usual, what attracted to me to this book (besides being in the new book section of the library) was the artwork of David Phelan. His warm and simple pencil and water colour illustrations are both sweet and expressive. The interaction with dog and child is very endearing -especially when they sometimes become “partners in crime”. As an aspiring children’s book artist, I look to successful artists like Phelan for inspiration.


Something Wickedly Weird
The Wooden Mile

Written and Illustrated By Chris Mould
Published by Roaring Brook Press, New York
First Published by Hodder Children’s Books, 2007
A division of Hachette Childrens Books, UK
Middle Readers, ages 9-11

Chris Mould, an award winning illustrator, applies his creative talent to his first authorial debut, Something Wickedly Weird, The Wooden Mile. As the title promises, this captivating story takes the reader on an adventure with Stanley Buggles an eleven year old heir to the Candlestick Estate on the weird island of Crampton Rock. Even on the first night of his arrival at Crampton Rock, Stanley’s young mind burns with questions: Why won’t the housekeeper, Mrs. Carelli, explain the strange circumstances of his late Uncle’s death? Why is no one in Crampton Rock allowed out after dark? And did that stuffed pike at Candlestick Hall just actually speak to him? Later, Stanley also has encounters with a werewolf, and some scheming pirates. One is left wondering; will Stanley live out his life to enjoy his inheritance?
This a great book to capture the imagination of even the reluctant boy-readers!

Chris’s accompanying cartoon illustrations are richly rendered with pencil, ink, and possibly other mixed media. I also appreciate Mould’s sharp eye for historical architectural detail that he has somehow cleverly combined with a Dr. Suess-like defiance of gravity. Wickedly Weird makes for a very enjoyable eye-treat! I love the scrappy little crab that appears on each new chapter heading.

Meet Puberty Boo!

An Introduction to Puberty Boo...

Hi there to you people who have nothing else better to do than to read my mom’s very nerdy blog (hey, I almost called it a “blob”, oooops!). I am Puberty Boo. I am sort of real, but not. Theresa, my mom, who is real (have I lost you yet? I don’t blame you if I have) has created, me, a fictional teen aged daughter inspired by a mish-mash of her own teen kids, and their friends combined to create me, Puberty Boo. In this way, she feels she can preserve her kids’ dignity, but also to feel free to exploit their cute foibles and laughable teenaged antics to the world. She tells me poor Robin Milne who was the real Christopher Robin from the Winnie the Pooh stories, never got to live down his Pooh past through all his adult life. Theresa/Mom thinks she is sparing her kids, but, really, who is she kidding?
Mom thinks that because I am being newly introduced to the world that I should have a cute theme song. A cute theme song??? What the hell? Oh yeah, Mom will let me swear my head off, if I want. She wants me to be as “authentic” as possible. Since when is hell, even a swear word anymore? Geez. Anyway, back to this stupid theme song she’s made up. She thinks it’s quite clever. You be the judge.

It is sung to the tune of “Cruella Deville” from Disney’s 101 Dalmatians.
Don’t know the song? Download it from YouTube, Neanderthal.


Puberty Boo,
She’s Puberty Boo,
She really grumpy,
And pimply too!

That greasy hair,
Really needs a shampoo,
It’s Puberty, oh,
Puberty Boo!


See you in future postings. Or not.

-Puberty Boo

Not Everyone Loves Your Kids.....

Just Desserts

My senior neighbour seemed so sweet,
She came by this afternoon,
She presented some fresh baking,
The gift of macaroons.

“For the children,” she explained,
“They’re such a lovely bunch,”
I thanked her for her thoughtfulness,
And the kids had them for lunch.

Later in emergency,
As the kids each took a turn,
Getting their poor stomachs pumped,
I began to learn.

Of how my children ran amuck,
In my old neighbour’s yard,
How they destroyed her prized rose bush,
And her lawn, they burned and scarred.

Of how they liked to trick her,
Oh what was she to do?
Like when they filled her mailbox,
With some smelly doggy poo.

Of how they always like to,
Chase her cat up trees,
And when they locked her out of home,
And left her standing there to freeze.

When we checked out of the hospital,
(They won’t be eating for a while),
We saw our neighbour in her yard,
She had an innocent sweet smile.

With all the things my kids had done,
To this neighbour from next door,
I say, I cannot blame this lady,
For settling the score.

Stephen Harper the Squirrel; Today

Stephen Harper has been at it again. He keeps trying muscle out the chickadees at the bird feeder. I don't know why, as the feeder is squirrel proof. He is not very smart. I sent Daisy, my 12 pound wiener dog, out to chase him up and over the fence. Stephen Harper will likely be back, though.

SAHM Comments on Cleaning the Loo

Tub Cleaning

First of all, I clean the tub as infrequently as possible. Now that my kids are older they’ve taken to having showers like their parents. So, not too much fear of catching some major contaminates from sitting in a filthy tub to get worried about.
On the rare occasion I do clean my tub, I clean it with shampoo with a clean scrubby. No Mr. Clean in my tub. Why? Because on tubs with tiled walls, any soap will work if applied with a good scrubby and some elbow grease. And also, when, on the odd occasion I do have a real bath, I’d rather soak in soap that is meant to applied to human skin and not some cleaning chemicals. Sorry Mr. Clean, just be glad I still use you for the toilet (which I DO clean more frequently than the tub, rest assured).
I tend only to only trouble myself with the cleaning of the tub when I am expecting visitors whom, if they stay long enough would likely use the loo at least once. Remember, you wouldn’t want your guests contemplating that brown ring in the bathtub while biding their time on your toilet.
Well.... in a pinch, you can always just close the shower curtain –if it’s clean, that is.

Toilet Cleaning and the Apocolypse

Apparently, recent studies have shown that the water in our toilets is cleaner than we thought. In fact, in the remote case of a national disaster, we could safely look upon our toilet water as a valuable source of drinking water.
Now, as far as cleaning is concerned, you can look at this in two ways. You can ask yourself, “Well, if I clean it with Mr. Clean (or any other type of commercial product ) will I be potentially poisoning my emergency drinking water supply?” or you can wonder, “If I use shampoo, will that be enough that kill any nasty bacterial life forms in my toilet; and will I be risking my families’ health with ecoli or some other poop related germ?”
Well, my solution to this weighty problem is to just clean it as you always have and think happy thoughts so that our collective positive thinking vibe staves off any national disaster in our time, and then we will not have to ever drink from the toilet!



The Bathroom Sink

Unlike the tub and the toilet, I clean the bathroom sink pretty regularly. Why? Because it always has stray hairs in it. My stray hairs. Dozens of them. And because I can’t bear to face the fact that I suffer from thinning hair, I try to get rid of the evidence as often as possible.
So... um my best sink cleaning advice is to buy one of those tiny drain strainers from the dollar store so you don’t keep plugging up the plumbing with your thinning hair strands.
This housework tip is getting too depressing....

Dark Queens Park; A Sampling of Rhymes

Hi, Everyone,
I had my very first, ever, poetry reading a few weeks ago. For those unfortunates who could not haul themselves into the basement of the library to come by for a listen, and in honour of Hyack Days, I am offering my first online debut of 5 of the poems from the reading. Here, just below, is a wee intro:

Dark Queens Park
A Different Kind of Neighbourhood Tour
A Sampling of Rhymes
By (me) Theresa Henry-Smith

Welcome to Queens Park.
And as neighbourhoods go, it’s a beauty. It has gorgeous heritage homes on streets lined with mature trees. It keeps a proud history alive by being host to annual events like the largest parade in western Canada, The Preservationist Society’s Annual Heritage Home Tour, and a May Day celebration in the neighbourhood park. I believe I am, indeed, very fortunate to reside there.

But I‘ve been musing lately... Is there a darker side to Queens Park? An evil lurking behind those restored bay windows? Please, join me in this sinister examination in:
Dark Queens Park. A Different Kind of Neighbourhood Tour.......

A Murder of Crows

The four and twenty Blackbirds,
That got baked in a pie,
Had it really coming,
They surely had to die.

Their caw is so annoying,
And they rip apart our lawns,
Let’s catch them and let’s cook them,
That will surely make them gone.

May Day Parade

It’s the pride of our fair city,
Our Hyack Days Parade,
Most spectators behave,
But not so; Tom and Wade.

Every year they show up early,
With their lawn chairs and their beer,
They block the views of little kids,
They wreck the atmosphere.

They loudly boo at boy scouts,
And the senior volunteers,
And to the startled May Queen,
They make suggestive leers.

Well, karma had its way this year,
The pirate float; it went off course,
And accidently killed those louts,
Not one soul has shown remorse.

Now parade day is much nicer,
We really can’t complain,
Except if you like watching,
In freezing, pouring rain.

French Immersion Line-up

Its 2:00 am and freezing cold,
They drink tea, no longer hot,
They lining for the program,
They want to hold their kids a spot.

They’ve all been there for many days,
They cannot take a chance,
They really really want their kids,
To talk like folks from France.

Stepford Tots

At the daycare down the lane,
The children never seem to play,
They always walk in unison.
They’re taught to just obey.

The children all have vacant stares,
They make me think of drones,
They call their teacher ‘master’,
In robotic monotones.

I want to tell their parents,
I was going to make a call,
But a note came through my door,
Written in a childish scrawl.

It said:
Ring around the Rosie,
A pocket full of rye,
Stay quiet, our dear neighbour,
Or you will surely die!

The Physically Fit Undead

They sprint out in the morning dark,
Disappearing in the mist,
The neighbours think they’re joggers,
But they’re zombies, I insist!

The Eternal Renovator

Here is Klaus,
With his unfinished house,
Where he drills, and he hammers, and he cuts,
He’s finds it so much fun,
So he’ll never get it done,
And the neighbours on his street,
Hate his guts.

Here is Klaus,
With his unfinished house,
Where the streets all echo with his clatter,
The sawdust never clears,
It’s been over twenty years,
Now we’re praying for a fall,
From a ladder.