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.
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.