Confusion reigns in the kitchen
Write a poem or story about what happens to the Christmas fruitcake.
MY TASTY TOY?!!?
(as confessed by Tipton)
I know I am a greedy cat, always on hunt for food!
I'll try any treat I can find, when I get in the mood!
I found our fruitcake, still wrapped up--I found it on the FLOOR!
And once I got a whiff of it, I pushed it to the door
in preparation for my theft; I couldn’t abandon
my scented prize, so eas’ly found and just as eas’ly won!
I dragged it to my hidey hole—it’s under mommy’s desk,
and bit into the fragrant cake—THAT put me to the test!
Now, spices aren’t my us’ual fare; they make me itch, in fact!
So, bravely I surrendered all; I had to take it back!
I dragged it back from whence it came: the kitchen was my goal,
and put it back on the table, all neatly in a bowl.
But when I went back to my room, I heard an awful roar
from the poor lost, confuse-ed soul who’d THROWN it on the floor!