300 million years until Pete gets his lump of coal,

it’s still a mix of gooey plants inside a muddy hole.

200 million years until the big surprise for Pete,

the plants are slowly changing from the pressure, earth, and heat.

100 million years until Pete’s stocking gets a pour,

the coal is underground beneath a roaring dinosaur.

200,000 years until Pete learns if he’s been nice,

the coal is waiting peacefully while mammoths trudge through ice.

One hundred years until Pete’s gift falls out and rolls around,

the lump of coal is mined from deep beneath the rocky ground.

Just fifty years until Pete learns he’s earned a lump of coal,

the lump is put in storage at the planet’s northern pole.

The second Pete receives his coal, he whoops a mighty cheer:

“Wa-Hoo! That Santa read my list!! I’ve been so good this year!”

The minute after Pete’s surprise, he shows his mom and dad.

“This present traveled all through time! Best gift I’ve ever had!”

It’s a shame I can’t take my pet snake to the pool.

I can’t take him to parks, I can’t take him to school.

I can’t take him to shops, or my sister’s ballet.

It’s a shame and it’s all because one silly day…

I went on a field trip and took him along.

I figured Town Hall would be fun. I was wrong!

My snake impressed all with his policy views.

The mayor stepped down. It was all on the news.

My snake took his place! Now, he’s running the town.

He’s got no time for me, so I feel pretty down.

I’m thinking of getting a pet pygmy hippo.

They don’t seek high office. At least I don’t think so!

There’s no need to worry, I’m sure I’ll get cards.

A couple, “I love yous”? At least, “Kind regards”?

My class won’t forget me on Valentine’s Day.

They’ll pile the cards high. I’ll grab them and say:

“I thank you, dear classmates! These cards are so cool!

I feel like the luckiest kid in the school!”

But what if there aren’t cards? No chocolates, or treats?

No need for my speech that lifts butts out of seats?

No standing ovation or raucous applause?

And what if the cards I made them get guffaws?

They might think I used too much glitter this year.

I should run back home, but it’s too late. I’m here.

I enter the classroom…No cards at my spot….

“NOOOO!” I wail. “I was right, you forgot!”

I fall to the ground. “What a Valentine’s Day!

What’s that, Mrs. Marks? It’s tomorrow you say?” 

My class helps me up. They love me! How cool!

I feel like the luckiest kid in the school.

One pot to rule them all I say!

I’ve built a golden pot.

I spun a bunch of gold from hay

that Rumpelstiltskin brought.

We melted, molded through the day–

and now, a golden pot!

But what makes sense to store this way?

Really, not a lot.

Rumpelstiltskin said he’d stay

until we have a thought.

I’m drowsy—(yawn)—I start to sway.

My brain’s completely shot.

I really wish I had that hay

to make a sleeping spot.

The moon didn’t know it was Halloween night.

The moon hadn’t heard of the costumes or fright.

The moon didn’t know kids were flooding the streets.

The moon hadn’t heard of the candy and treats.

The moon didn’t know people did this in fall.

The moon didn’t know there were people at all!

But how could the moon never see all these sights?

Distracted by comets and meteorites?

The moon missed so much. Could it be any stupider?

No, it’s not that…the moon’s name was Thebe and it orbited Jupiter!

The mermaid named Marla loved sports of all sorts.

She swam to resorts that had ball fields and courts.

She hopped up on shore to play tennis and ping-pong.

Then, off to the gym—lifting weights kept her swing strong.

The pins all went flying whenever she bowled.

Her golf trophies filled up a sunken ship’s hold.

But, she never made baskets. Her shots went KA-CLUNK.

Until she learned basketball’s mighty slam dunk.

BOOSH!!

If we want to make food, we should learn how to cook.

We can read how to do it inside my new…food preparation manual.

Page four teaches waffles! Come here, take a look!

With this book on our side, we can learn how to… prepare food.

Hey, give that back! You’ve stolen my book!

You’re a criminal, scoundrel, a menace, a…bad person that behaves contrary to what the law prescribes!

Ha-ha! I’ve caught you! That’s my book, you crook!

You’re no longer invited to learn how to…mix edible ingredients in a pleasing way!

Animal cookies are so good to chew.

But why do they leave out the kinkajou?

They’re the niftiest, grooviest dudes at the zoo!

That’s according to me—just a human like you.

Look at this box: it’s creature Who’s-Who!

There’s a caribou, zebra, a kudu, and gnu.

There’s a cockatoo, kangaroo, emu, and shrew.

But what this box needs is a kinkajou!

Take it from me—normal person like you.

Uh-oh, what’s that? There’s some loosening glue?

Whoopsie! A claw’s poking out of my shoe?

Okay, bad disguise…So, I’m not quite like you.

I’m a super fantabulous kinkajou!

Can you please include me on the cookie box too?

Zeke was like any 5th grader you meet,

except covered in fur from his head to his feet.

Zeke was a werewolf. He loved to count sheep.

But he counted for eating and not to get sleep.

“Sheep!” cried Zeke. “Sheep! Sheep!”

They streaked past his window. Each sheep made a bleat:

“Baaah!”

“Sheep!” cried Zeke. He leaped to his feet.

“Enough,” said Zeke’s mother. “You don’t need to eat.”

“But there’s so many out there! I’m hungry!” wailed Zeke.

“Tomorrow, I’ll treat you to big plates of meat,

but for now it’s too late and you need to get sleep.”

Zeke turned from the window and tried to breathe deep,

but the sheep were still out there. He needed to peek…

“Sheep!” cried Zeke. “Sheep! Sheep!”

They cartwheeled, played hopscotch, and hide-and-go-seek.

Zeke’s face flushed with heat. He was starting to freak…

“SHEEEEEP!”

KA-CRASH!

Zeke burst through the glass with a terrible shriek.

The sheep’s happy bleating transformed into, “EEEEEK!”

Zeke’s mom found her werewolf collapsed in a heap.

“Now you’re tired?” she asked. “Now you want to get sleep?”

She waited, but no answers came out of Zeke.

Zeke couldn’t speak. He had sheep in his cheek.