Author's Note – Happy birthday me! This is a poem I composed to celebrate my (and Constance's, I suppose) birthday. I am extremely proud of some verses, and slightly mortified to have made others. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer – Bah, humbug! I nearly forgot about this. I don't own The Mysterious Benedict Society, nor do I own the characters.


The banner clearly read.

And under it a conference

Of children on the bed.

Behold the cakes and candles;

The stacks of presents high;

The talk about news scandals;

The smiles; laughter wry.

A boy with average face and hair,

But far from average mind;

A girl with a complexion fair,

And a bucket at her side.

A boy with contact lenses,

Who is bald and on the bed;

And a girl who always senses

What's in other people's heads.

They huddle 'round the flashlight,

That from Kate's bucket sprung,

And talk about their bygone fights,

When they were very young.

A year and some since Curtain's defeat;

A year since last they won.

It's been some time, and now they meet –

The birthday's just begun!

Said Kate to Reynie, "Come on, now–

We need to frost the cake."

Reynie frowned with furrowed brow.

"I thought it had to bake."

"It does," said Constance, giggling,

As sweets she did consume.

Sticky fixed his contacts, fiddling,

As he squinted 'round the room.

Then a crack of light appeared

Around the bedroom door.

Reynie gasped (but not in fear)

And jumped up from the floor.

Rhonda, Moocho Number Two,

The Perumals, Benedict,

The Washingtons and Mill'gan too

Strode through the door derelict.

Aloft in Moocho's mighty arms,

A cake quite brightly burned,

Upon its surface, sugared swarms

Of raincoats, red cuffs turned.

Benedict, with subtle wink

At Constance 'cross the room,

Straightened his party hat (pink)

And squinted through the gloom.

And then he started singing,

His voice a pleasant bass,

The song of birthday-bringing,

Grinning at his daughter's face.

Slowly all joined in the song,

And loudly belted they,

And all while Constance, hummed along

And heard the old tune play.

"Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Constance,

Happy birthday to you!"

Constance closed her eyes and blew

With all her might and main.

She sucked another breath anew

And blew, then blew again.

Applause broke out;

Smoke filled the room.

All heard Kate shout

And Moocho boom,


Author's Note – What did you think? I won't beg you to review like I normally do, but they would be nice. And do you have any idea how hard it is to cram dialogue into this poem format? It's nearly impossible! Thanks,

~A Now Fourteen Defender of Grammar~