The Monster

On days like today when I have absolutely no time to write, I will post a random poem from my childhood.  Here is a poem written by my father when I was in the fifth grade.

Monster
The monster was scary.
It had big, bloody claws.
It reached out toward Mary,
So I yelled, "Help us, Pa!"

Pa came in running
With shotgun in tow.
He pointed it at the beast,
And boy, did it blow!

There were monster guts everywhere,
From ceiling to floor.
It took days just to clean up
The stuff off the door.

If I recall correctly, I began the first line of the poem and left to go to the bathroom or something, and when I returned, there was this in its stead.  I think I was traumatized for months after this.

I will write something tomorrow.  I will.