The Man Who Ate Flies and Other Such Nonsense

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

So, in my spare time, or when I can't sleep, I write really bad limericks. Not sure if you knew that or not, but don't judge me. As I said, they're really bad and mostly nonsensical, but feel free to read them and laugh!

So without further ado, here is the first one I wrote and where the title of this thread comes from:

The Man Who Ate Flies

I once met a man who only ate flies
He ate so many,
I thought he would die.
But he ate them and made them into cookies and pies
Into a nice soup du jour and six-legged French fries.

He baked a fly-biscuit and a fly-bunt cake
I even saw him once,
Drinking a fly milkshake.

But I never once saw where he kept so many flies.
Did he keep them in glass jars away from peering eyes?
Did he keep them cupboards or silverware drawers?
Or did he keep them locked up behind cabinet doors?

His house is leafy and sits on a bog
So that’s why I’ve begun to think that he might be a frog.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Carl Steed And His Bride To Be

Carl Steed’s mom knew something was off
When her son said he wanted to be Boris Karloff.

She begged and she pleaded and she chided and bribed,
But Carl Steed kept wanting to make a Frankenstein’s bride.

So he took out a needle and he took out some thread
And he labored all day until he fashioned a head.
A head that was perfect with eyes monochromatic,
With hair that was so tall it could reach to the attic.

Then he sewed and he sewed until he made her two legs
And two arms to match so she wouldn’t have to beg.
He made her a stomach, a liver, and an intelligent brain,
But he made her no heart so that she couldn’t feel pain.

His creation was finished after months of hard work,
But he realized, rather quickly, there was one little quirk.
For Frankenstein’s bride, she seemed rather stoic,
If she ever was happy, she sure didn’t show it.

She never smiled or giggled or laughed or sang
And so Carl was sad: he let his head hang.
If they were to be married, he would never have guessed,
That not giving her a heart would make her heartless.

“Ah, yes,” he said, “it all makes sense now,”
“Without a heart you can’t make a true wedding vow.”
So he swallowed his pride and made her a heart,
And she leapt back to life with such a great start.

If there’s one thing Carl learned from creating the dame,
Is that you can’t enjoy life unless you’ve felt a little pain.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

So, I know this is the writing section, but I don't have an art section, and I don't often make banners or things of the like so I'm just going to post the few that I make here. So, for Emmy, I made a Character Page. Without further ado:

Victorine Delavent Character Page

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

The Mermaid With Feet

I once met a mermaid who had feet.
There’s no way to describe her except for “neat”.
She lived underwater
With her shark of a daughter
And her dolphin husband named Pete.
They dined on lobsters and fishes
With seaweed side dishes
And other sea creatures to eat.

One day, the mermaid went to land
And she buried her feet in the sand.
She liked it so much
(though it was far too hot to touch)
And stayed out all day just to tan.

That’s when I found her all burnt and bright red,
With some dried algae still stuck to her head.
I asked her her name
And from where she came
And she told she lived on the seabed.

We talked for hours, this mermaid and me,
Until she decided to go back to the sea.
I watched her walk away,
And as she approached the bay,
I tried to figure out exactly how she breathed.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

The rhyme scheme on this one is... well... wonky and not great. But I do like this one a little. Hopefully you guys enjoy.

Untitled

There once was a woman who’s reflection was a liar.
It told untruths all day and never got tired.
The woman cried and bellowed at these falsities
And believed them all until she felt awfully.
“You belong to me!”
her reflection roared. “I have won; you believe me completely!”
But all hope was not lost for this young lady,
For she realized a talking mirror was something quite shady.
So in rightful anger, she picked up a fire poker
And stabbed at her reflection until its words could no longer choke her.
As she looked down at the broken shards with pride,
She realized that beauty is something that starts on the inside.
It grows and it grows like a crecendoing chorus
Until you realize that your outside, too, has always been gorgeous.