Small brown ghosts float in my milk,
Chased by little white spirits.
This meal is not made of Fruit Loops.
There is no flavored Cinnamon Toast,
No Crunchberries in this breakfast.
I?m having a bowl of Count Chocula
Almost empty, my box of Count Chocula.
My bowl filled to the brim with milk.
I sat down for this morning?s breakfast,
My mind swarmed with wakening spirits.
I could have had some eggs and toast,
But my mind was on Fruit Loops.
I stir the bowl, marshmallow loops?
This is my Count Chocula.
Served with eggs and toast
And a tall glass of milk,
To clear away my mind?s spirits.
Part of this nutritious breakfast?
The morning, they say, begins with breakfast
Or else the mind gets stuck in loops.
Chase away the clouds of last night?s spirits
With a heaping bowl of Count Chocula.
My stomach churns at thoughts of milk,
But slightly calms as I nibble on toast.
Last night I?d made many a toast,
Not realizing I?d regret it at breakfast.
I drank like a babe sucking at its mother?s milk
And now my stomach is turning loops.
Can I even eat this bowl of Count Chocula
While I?m recovering from a night of spirits?
Rush to the bathroom, thanks to the spirits
And helped along by this morning?s toast.
I?m throwing up my Count Chocula,
And all my nutritious breakfast.
Muscles clench, my vision loops;
Morning after? Shun the milk.
Never mix milk with nightly spirits
As vision loops with friendly toasts
Lament lost breakfast of Count Chocula.
 Lord Shishio · Sun Dec 12, 2004 @ 12:32am · 260 Comments |
