Rodney Richards, deranged racoon,
Always ate everything with a small spoon.
Whether mustard or custard or a tender young brain,
Rodney’s preference for scoopage was incredibly plain.

Tender young brain? Oh that’s right, I forgot!
Rodney’s other small quirk (which he’d learned as a tot)
Was to act like a zombie (though he wasn’t quite dead)
And to pounce upon people and pry open their heads!

Now before you go judging poor Rodney’s disease,
You should know he did not simply pop as he pleased,
And in fact had not whacked, had not caused one to fall,
And as such had not munched on gray matter at all.

But Rodney was patient, and he tried every day,
By waiting at school yards where children would play.
But his nerves were like jelly and his heart turned to goo
When those cute little buggers waved at him, said: “Shoo!”

Rodney Richards, deranged racoon,
Went to bed daily with his under-used spoon.
He longed for the day when his blood turned to ice,
But until that day came, gummi worms would suffice.

Wonderful artwork by Ape Lad, who had no idea this poem would be associated with his drawings

Tags: ape lad, poems

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