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Second Place—Rose Heffernan - Oakville, ON
Winner 2 - Certificate + $ 10.00
CAD
How to Take out the Trash
T'was the day I finally took out the trash,
Rotten eggs and spoiled milk fell down with a splash.
It slipped into my hair; it spilled in my eye,
I can tell you right then, I wanted to die.
It all started when I got into a fight,
My mother screamed, "YOU TAKE OUT THAT TRASH TONIGHT!"
"NO!" I screamed back, ran upstairs, slammed the door,
I was thereby on strike, forever more.
The strike remained successful for days, months, a year!
Until my mother came and said, "Listen, dear?
I know we're angry with each other but this fight is getting old,
The trash had reached the ceiling and the ceiling's growing mold."
Of course I didn't believe her? up to the ceiling?
But when I neared the kitchen, I got this funny feeling.
The smell, it was disgusting; totally atrocious,
Something was coming up my mouth, something ferocious.
*This poem will now be put on hold as the next scene is simply too
disgusting to describe it. Please, sit down and have a cookie. Did
you hear the one about the goldfish? It's the most valuable fish in
the world! HA, HA, HA! And the one about the-
Oh! My lovely secretary says the scene is over, now. Thank you, and
have a simply, dandy day.*
I finally took the trash out, 200 meters in height,
My mother did win the battle, but certainly not the fight.
Truth to be told, I'm glad I finally saw the light,
But please don't tell my mother? I hate it when she's right!
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