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A tale of a knit octopus. |
| A little octopus named Knit lives in the sea of quilt and spread; he wears no algae on his pate but wears a cap of wool instead. All through the night he swims in shag as moonlight sometimes beams on high; but in the morn when beds are made he’s perched on pillows high and dry. Knit has a small-screen TV set that sits upon his shelf of stuff; although he’ll sometimes watch, The View, he’s partial to, Eight is Enough. (Knit raises himself up with ease, bouncing bubbly on the table; he is a gymnast octopus-- with eight arms, he’s more than able.) One day he heard the strangest sound that scared him from beyond the door; so he scurried beneath the quilt as that strange sound became a roar. Then as the roar continued on he took a peek, his wool now white; that was the day he learned about an upright vacuum clean on site. Still, Little Knit can be an imp-- digital clocks just give him glee; he’ll drop an arm across the face to change the eight into a three. 28 Lines |