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.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY CONSTANCE"
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,
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CONSTANCE!"
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~