Disclaimer: They're not mine, none of 'em. This is
a cheery, pointless li'l fluff-piece that says nothing except that no matter
what, Hank still retains his sense of wonder at it all. :)
by Dyce
When I sat down to eat today,
A loaded plate flew by my face
Followed by knives in neat array,
(The forks and spoons were keeping pace.)
A one-eyed man was cooking toast,
With crimson fire from twixt his lids,
Another froze them when the coast
Was clear (he does it for the kids).
A woman there, with hair like snow,
Rebuked him with a rain-shower,
Not the slightest shame did he show,
(I think that's a mutant power)
Gambit showed off once again,
Cooked bacon with a single touch,
Rogue was unimpressed, 'twas plain,
(I know *I* wouldn't like it much)
Jean made the pancakes dance about,
Circling the room with joyous ease,
To get a share, just give a shout,
(But only if it starts with 'please')
A bone spike barely missed my ear,
As Marrow claimed the last pop-tart,
I let her take it with good cheer,
(I know they're not good for my heart)
In furry hands I took my plate
Twas time to work, abandon play,
And yet, though labour is my lot...
(There's breakfast magic every day)
(fin)
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