Poems don’t have to be, what you see.
They can be miraculous things.
But I’m not here to talk about poems, or banana wings.
I’m here to tell a story poem.
I’m here to shout aloud.
I love stories, especially fiction poems.
Here it is,
I hope you you call me a whiz.

A very, very, very, very longish time ago,
which was yesterday,oh,
in a land not so farish away,
lived an eggplant.
This eggplant’s name is Gluedamoo Eggplantsway.
He lived in a land called Foodpeace,
He loved it there,
though, he had a house on lease.
Gluedamoo had many friends you see,
but this friend,
lets keep it between you and me.
This best friend’s name was Mustachio,
which is ironic because he loves pistachios.
Mustachio was well Gluedamoo’s mustache you see.
But don’t judge him, or you’ll be sorry.
Yesterday, while Gluedamoo was looking for pies,
he saw something that caught his eyes!
He saw a throw up flavored pie!
He jumped up with utter glee,
but something smelled a little fishy,
literally.
Mustachio smelled a little guppy,
and then he smelled a kitten and a puppy.
Gluedamoo asked for three,
the baker said “oh what,oh what would you want of three”.
Gluedamoo said “I’d like three snail throw up pies”.
The baker said”oh my, oh my that’s my favorite pie”.
Gluedamoo paid and left off,
then he started to cough.
He sneezed and sneezed with a horrible fit,
then he said”oh no. I’ve been tricked.
What pies could these be,
this is such a mystery”.
Now ladies and germs,
what could be in this pie,
don’t cry.
Gluedamoo opened the pie,
and saw ants in dressed like a spy.
Gluedamoo gasped and Mustachio screamed.
The ants started hollering,
and the baker beamed.
The ants said”you shall cut off Mustachio,
or you will be drowned in pistachios”.
Gluedamoo got scared and fled away.
Then Mustachio said”its not okay, its not okay”.
They reached home,
and Gluedamoo saw their garden gnomes.
He rushed to the bathroom,and got out a razor,
while Mustachio quickly made a prayer.
Mustachio got shaved all at once,
it was so sad,
that even even bulls started to be in dunce.
Gluedamoo cried,
he really did,
Mustachio cried,
like a petite kid.
He fell inside the toilet bowl,
to despair and triumph, you will toll.
When Mustachio looked,
another mustache was there.
The mustache said”Hi.You look like a sad hare.
My name is Happy which I am.
I really don’t want a sick lamb”.
Mustachio was in grief,
while Happy was in relief.
Happy said “I’m happy to be free!
Do you want to see the world with me!”.
Mustachio said “I need to get back on Gluedamoo’s face,
I’m horribly, horribly, horribly misplaced”.
Happy said “I can help you,
to get you back.
I can’t believe how you passed this great opportunity.
Especially since its in your community”.
You have to get glue,
to stick on his face,
so the only thing to do,
is to do a good chase”.
“Ok ok. I’ll get up and go,
Tell me where to go, I don’t know.”
Happy gives him a lift over the potty.
Then he sees a counter,all polka dotty.
He know its the right one,
so he grabs the glue and it feels like a ton.
Mustachio goes back to the potty,
all spick and spotty.
Happy puts the glue on Mustachio’s back.
It felt so slick and slack.
Meanwhile, Gluedamoo had a bad, sad feeling.
He started walking and slipped on a throw up pie!
He wanted at that moment to fly.
He found Mustachio and put him back on.
Everything was happy.
Everything wasn’t sappy.
The baker and ants got fired,
while Gluedamoo and Mustachio got hired.
THE END
Now you may ask,
my dear reader,
who was the true author,
and what was the torture.
It was Gluedamoo and Mustachio!
They couldn’t come because of the bug slime rain.
BTW: Mustachio loves pistachios!