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Rated: E · Poetry · Children's · #2223467
Using the bolded words as the prompt, a Jac-in-the-Box has a life or death situation.


Jack-in-the-Box to Sir Slinky declared,
“I’m doomed for the garbage if I’m not repaired!

My spring’s lost its sprung and I no longer jump
when you pop up my lid. Instead I just slump.

The toy keeper’s threatened to throw me away
if I don’t get my boing by the end of the day.”

I’ve said all along I’d be sad if you sold,
and I secretly hoped we’d, together, grow old,

but I never expected this tragical end.
We’ll muster up some kind of magic my friend.

“I don’t have much hope for the potion you’re mixing,
I just need a welder. My spring’s needing fixing.”

There’s Timmy the Toolman; the boy’s full of fluff.
He boasts he’s the best, but it’s only a bluff

“Let’s face it Sir Slinky, my shelf life is up.
I’ll soon be replaced by a bear or a pup.”

Soon Slinky sprang up as if stung by a bee.
Oh Jack, we’re so foolish! The answer is me!”

“Sir Slinky, you’re clearly the best toy I’ve known
and I can’t let you give up a life of your own.”

I’ve barely been used, so my spring’s good as new
and I’d rather be boxed up forever with you.

Now we better get started. It’s quarter to one
and we’re gonna need hours to get this job done

24 lines of anapestic tetrameter with some variation.
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