Praise of the Pack-Rat

Well remember the homeless guy that I wrote a poem for?? Well my brother's other roommate was apparently jealous and he wanted a poem also. So here is a poem in honor of him.

Praise of the Pack-Rat

by Q

VOLUME I: THE WAR OF THE PRODUCTS

Gather close, gather near

listen my children and you will hear

as I tell you with great joy

the story of the Pack-Rat boy!

If you recall the Homeless Guy

he moved out, by and by

there was another in that apartment

though his quirks were a different department

Two in this room, since the other departed

they shared their space in an affect whole-hearted

but slowly the third boy became aware

of the Pack-Rat boy, beware.

Along the dresser there is a line

of many Axe bottles, more than nine

each one is a different scent

all his money on these he spent

His hair products they amount

to half his holdings, a large amount

his obsessions with these style bottles are

worse then a girls, much more by far

Hundreds of bottles, thousandths of bottles

millions and billions and trillions of bottles

and so ends this epic, volume one

the war of the products has just begun.

VOLUME II: A TRAGIC ACCIDENT

Oh, woe! Woe, to the Pack-Rat

his agility is quite unlike a cat

listen closely please once more

and I will try not to be a bore

The day dawned very blue

and at the slopes the boy was due

the Pack-Rat was as of yet unclear

the price he'd pay would be very dear

He stood atop this snowy peak

with winds blowing harshly upon his cheek

he gripped his board with strength intended

to send him to the bottom in a story well ended

His descent began most admirable

as the crowd watched his every move most avidly

they gasped, they screamed, because they were awed

and as he slid by, the oohed, they aahed

Then suddenly there was a fumble

the Pack-Rat stumbled, he tumbled

through the air he flew in a way admired

by skiers long ago retired

When the Pack-Rat leaves each week

to the doctor, he goes in a way most meek

his bones are bruised most painfully

his roommate tries not to laugh too spitefully

EPILOGUE

My tale of the Pack-Rat ends right here

but I promise his life is far from over, never fear

he lives on, to you I would not dare tell a lie

for there are thousands beauty products left to buy.

I should start charging for these poems. Im getting better at them. And that's my tale! Now I must return to class if they have not already decided to throw my books out the window into oncoming traffic.