Here is the URL for a video that was made splicing together film of me in Real Life and in Second Life reading this poem (I am cleverly disguised as a troll for most of it)
THE VERY HORRIBLE MONSTER
There once was a monster who was
very bad.
He was smelly and lumpy and cross
eyed and grumpy -
He was just basically horrid.
He had hair that bristled from
green warty skin
He had pustules and carbuncles and
a sneery green
And those kind of toenails that
grow all bumpy and twisted.
In the morning he’d get out, and
just for fun
He’d stamp on the gophers on the
back lawn,
A bird would be singing out on a
twig,
He’d stand under it and aim a belch
so big
And horrendously stinky, it would
blast that poor bird
Right off for a whole mile and a
third
The whole forest was full of mute
birds suffering from post-traumatic shock syndrome on account of the
monstrously terrible burps
And all the other creatures would
cower and lurk.
Then he’d go huffing and grumping
along,
Looking for any excuse to pick up
bone
With any poor creature that
happened along.
He was just basically horrid.
If little red riding hood happened
to say
”I’m visiting my granny. What a
lovely day.”
He wouldn’t politely tell her the
way,
He’d just say “Ah! Dinner!”
He would chomp her up with a big
crunchy slurp,
And that’s why he did such terrible
burps.
People would hear his thumping
steps,
His muttering and grumbling and
wheezing breaths,
And all of them, be they postman or
tramp,
Or just that nice old lady
delivering leaflets for her church bazaar,
Would jump into bushes or climb up
a lamp,
And he’d rush after them bawling
“hip ho” and “huzzah”
(He’d read these expressions in a
book from his grandma).
And no one, not policeman nor mayor,
Not even a traffic warden with
notebook and glare,
Not bad boys on the street with
wheels on their feet
And slickety knives and packets of
weed,
Could stop that monster in his
disgusting greed.
He wasn’t like Shreck, grumpy but
good,
He wasn’t “poor misunderstood”,
He was just basically horrid.
There was a brother and sister,
terrible twins,
They made everyone cross,
They were a really bad lot,
They couldn’t resist playing
naughty tricks,
And they’d had to split,
And come and hide in the forest.
They wandered around, looking for
food,
Wondering at the silence and a
strange smell in the murk and the gloom
Of those boggy, soggy, deserted
woods.
And they began to feel a little bit
scared,
The light was fading, and they were
aware
They had no shelter or home to call
their own,
Not even a cafe to sit in the warm,
Or a sweet-shop to go nicking, no
place to run,
Just trees and more trees, and
nothing to eat, not even a bun.
Then they saw through the trees a
flickering light,
And shuffled close to catch a sight
Of planks in a stack that was
really a shack.
It leant over sideways, propped up
by a pole,
It looked deserted, but for a
lingering smell.
It didn’t look nice, it certainly
wasn’t made of gingerbread.
But the twins crept closer to get a
look in,
And there wasn’t anyone to be seen,
And it was getting darker and
scarier outside where they were,
So… they went in.
It was scuzzy and manky and totally
minging,
But it had a small fire, and a
table and chair,
And even though common sense said
Beware!
This is some horrible creature’s
lair!
They started to look and poke
around
To see if at least there was any
food to be found,
Something to eat and a place to
stay
At least till the following day.
And so it was that the monster came
home,
Hungry and grumpy from a day on the
roam
Looking for food that wouldn’t come
out and let him catch it,
Whether he belched or threw stones
or jumped up to snatch it.
He’d just about had it, his temper
was raw,
He was looking for anything to
gnash and claw,
When he got home this is what he
saw –
Dinner! Just sitting waiting.
He let out a roar,
His horrible toenails gripped the
floor,
As he got one twin in his grip.
She struggled and thumped him and
tried to nip
His scabby fingers that poked and
throttled.
She looked round and thought her
brother had bottled,
Because he ran out the door and
went outside.
She thought he’d run off to hide.
And as the monster opened his mouth
wide
Showing his snaggly, yellowy teeth
Saying “There’s nothing I like
better for tea
Than a child I can roast
And eat with a slice of toast.”
Back came her bro with a hammer and
nails,
That the monster had left sitting
in a pail
Because he meant to get round to
mending his roof,
But was always too grumpy to be in
the mood.
Bang! Bang! Bang! in went the tacks
While the giant his lips he did
smack
“I’ll scoop out to your brains with
an egg spoon,”
He drooled, and he went to hurl
The little girl into his roasting
pan.
But down he fell with a whackety
wham!
All eleven of his toenails were
neatly fastened,
Nailed toenails all in a row,
Hammered to the thick wooden floor.
In the shock of the fall his claws
he un-claspened,
And while sister tipped the table
on the monster’s back
Brother gave him another whack
On the heel of each foot.
The monster bellowed and heaved and
shook.
The floorboards snapped and up he
got,
And he picked up the table and
blocked the door,
The twins were trapped!
One in each hand he threw them
together
And tied them with ropes to the
post in the room,
He tied them tight and knotted them
good,
They could barely breathe or move.
“Now you’ve made me really cross!” he
bellowed.
“I’m gonna cook you hot as hot,
And suck your bones, and nibble
your giblets.”
He bent down close to their
cowering faces, and
Droolingly licked first one, then
the other,
Smacking his lips and sniffing the
savoury smell of their fear.
Then he went out to get logs for
the fire,
Leaving the children trussed up and
tied.
But these two bad kids had been in
trouble before.
The monster had barely got out the
door
And they were wiggling and
squirming and stretching and turning
Their nimble fingers at the knots.
Once they were free they wiped off
the snot
Of his drooling and licking.
Then they climbed up the chimney,
the only way out.
Bro went up first, with a bit of
toil,
While sis found a bottle of cooking
oil.
Using the ropes her brother threw
down
She shimmied up and told him her
plan.
They hid there, quietly, up on the
shingles,
Till the monster came back carrying
bundles of kindling.
He built up his fire, crooning a
song,
About boiling and roasting and
basting and toasting.
Then with a happy, monster-y smile
he looked along
To where his dinner was tied at the
end of the room
“What?!” he bellowed “where did
they go?
I was gonna fricassee them with
some escargot!”
He hunted through his room high and
low,
Meanwhile his fire had started to
glow
To thrum and hum and flicker and
crackle,
The flame was spreading from
kindling to peat,
And now something else was adding
the heat
Down through the chimney the oil
was dripping
From up on the roof where sis was
tipping.
Down on the ground bro wedged a
pole
Against the door, then off the two
stole
Back to the woods, a job well done.
They’d cooked the monster and
turned round his plan,
He’d been caught well and truly in
his own scam.
But not so quick my smarty-pants
twins!
That monster was only a little bit
singed
And he broke through the door
And let out a roar.
Seeing the twins, he extended his
claws,
And he would have caught them if
not for the pieces of floorboard still fastened to his toes,
That made him move just a little
bit slow.
Quick as a flash they climbed up a
tree.
They went nimble and fast and
thought they were free.
But that monster wasn’t as thick as
he looked.
He used that tree on a regular
basis
To hang his victims in a state of
stasis.
The whole tree was covered with
hooks
Dangling from every branch and
crook,
And he had a pulley and rope to
bend it down,
Once his meat had been well and
truly hung.
Bleauugh!
So he grabbed at the handle and
started to turn,
Lit by the flame of his shack while
it burned.
Blimey O’Reilly! Can’t this monster
be killed?
Will he ever be finally stilled?
But what are they doing now, these
two clever kids?
Down and down the tree’s bending
low,
The monster’s grinning in the
fire’s glow.
The kids are hanging on tight to a bough,
Rope in one hand each, ready to
throw.
Closer and closer to the monster’s
great maw,
At the very last minute each of
them threw
A rope lasso onto each huge ear
Of that green-skinned, partially
singed, hungry, big monster.
The other ends of the ropes were
tied to the tree,
And each kid managed to kick one
knee
Of the monster as they jumped down
free.
He screamed, more from shock from pain,
And tried to grab them both again,
And… he let go the handle he was
turning,
And it ratcheted back
With clanking and churning
And with a great snap
It broke right apart.
The tree went twoinnng! Like a big
catapult,
And the monster was dragged by his ears
up high,
And he flew off into the night sky.
And finally, finally they had got
rid
Of that horrible monster, so green
and so big.
He cracked open the ground where he
finally landed.
The people of the town saw him and
banded
Together to tackle him for once and
all
Who had held the whole place in his
terrible thrall.
Policeman, Mayor, traffic-warden
and tramp,
Skateboarding boys with slickety
knives,
Ganged up on the monster and began
to jump
Up and down on his head,
And the little old lady with her leaflets
from church
Said “That’s for all those terrible
burps!”
And the monster began to bawl and
whine
And cry like a great big baby,
“I’m misunderstood! I am really
good!
You don’t know the problems I’ve
had!”
And they all said “You’re not good!
You’re just basically horrid!”
And they kept on pounding him with
bat and stick,
And brolly and bag, and even the
birds came and had a peck,
Till all that was left was a big
greasy smear
And a lingering, stinky, horrible
smell.
And when the twins staggered into town
They were welcomed, and settled
down.
And somehow they didn’t need to
play tricks,
And be bad kids and terrible twins.
Sometimes bad can be good,
If you’re not basically horrid.
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