"Ben we need poetry for this poor grunting misunderstood gnome!"
-Chris McQueeney (read his poem here).
Gerald grunted from the stone he passed
The children thought he was a ghoul
But they could never know
He was a hero on his thrown,
Watching over celery
That sometimes came to life
And feasted on their brains.
The children thought he was a ghoul
But they could never know
He was a hero on his thrown,
Watching over celery
That sometimes came to life
And feasted on their brains.
Haha! Ben you are a fungi ;-)
ReplyDeleteI hope you don't mean that in a bad way :-(
DeleteTiz all good in the hood my friend
ReplyDelete:D :)
ReplyDeleteShreya! I've missed you here.
DeleteAnd so did I, Ben ;)
Delete