My mother said to do my chores,
to dust the shelves and mop the floors,
and wipe the walls and wind the clocks,
and scoop the kitty’s litter box,
and walk the dog and feed the fishes,
and wash and and dry the dirty dishes,
and clean my room and take a bath,
and read a book and do my math,
and pick up all my Lego blocks,
and put away my shoes and socks,
and hang my shirts and fold my pants,
and water all the potted plants,
and organize my toys and games,
and straighten up the picture frames,
and polish all the silverware,
and brush my teeth and comb my hair,
and rake the leaves and mow the lawn,
and on and on and on and on.
She said I’ll get to have some fun
as soon as all my chores are done.
With all the chores I have to do
until my mother says I’m through,
like study for an hour or two
the names of places in Peru,
and peel potatoes and stir the stew,
and fix a vase with crazy glue,
and practice tuba till I’m blue,
and scrub the tub and toilet too,
and sweep the chimney and the fluefluea passage or duct for smoke in a chimney.,
and wash the dog with pet shampoo,
and pick up piles of puppy poo…
It looks like I’ll be ninety three
before I get to watch TV.
Today I walked into my big brother’s room,
and that’s when I saw it: The Armpit of Doom.
I wasn’t expecting The Armpit at all.
I shrieked and fell backward and grabbed for the wall.
The Armpit was smelly. The Armpit was hairy.
The Armpit was truly disgusting and scary.
I wanted to vomit. I wanted to cry.
I wanted to flee from it’s all-seeing eye.
My skin started crawling with goosebumps and chills.
My brain began screaming to head for the hills.
I tried to escape but I knew I could not.
In horror, I found I was glued to the spot.
“Will somebody help me!?” I started to shout,
till fumes overcame me and made me pass outpass outto become unconscious; faint..
And that’s why I’m here in this hospital room;
it’s all on account of The Armpit of Doom.
I’m still feeling shaken. I’m queasy and pale,
but lucky I lived and can tell you my tale.
So take my advice… If you ever go near
your big brothers room, bring a whole lot of gear:
A gas mask and goggles, a helmet and shield,
or maybe a space suit that’s perfectly sealed.
And then, only then, when you’re fully prepared,
step in very slowly and hope you’ll be spared.
But, if you’re afraid of the Armpit of Doom,
stay far, far away from your big brother’s room.
It’s time once again for a new animated video. This one is of my poem “My Brother’s Not a Werewolf.” With fun, bouncy music by Sergei Stern and awesome animation by Stephan Krosecz, I hope you’ll enjoy watching this one over and over. If you like, you can even click on the “CC” (closed captioning) button to read along as you listen to the poem.