I've never seen
Mom quite so upset
as the day I flushed
the hamster down the toilet.
Her face went scrunch like
a grumpy pet,
and I thought Old Sparky
might join the riot.
"Fetch me the plunger!"
she shouted with might,
and zoom—like the roadrunner—it came into sight.
"The other
end, child—don’t be blind!
This one’s for
unplugging from behind!"
She plunged
and she pushed
with a clatter
and clank,
a bash and a splash
and a sploosh from the
tank.
But Lucky
just tumbled still deeper below.
"Get a crane!
Get a plumber! A bulldozer—go!"
"We don’t
have those things,"
I whispered instead.
"One more word
from you and I’ll use
your head!"
She grabbed
the old pliers and twisted
them tight.
The pipes burped and bubbled
like something in fright.
Water shot out
in a wild,
messy sheet— and Mother
was soaked from her hair
to her feet.
A giggle
escaped from my belly
so round, wiggling and
jiggling with jelly‑like
sound.
Mad as
a hornet, she reached for
a knife.
"Keep
laughing and you’ll
be grounded for life!"
She jabbed
the poor bowl
with a desperate
goal— to free little
Lucky stuck deep in the hole.
"I give
up!"
she cried with a thunderous
grumble.
"Where are the Yellow Pages?
I need a plumber!"
No comments:
Post a Comment