Well somebody forgot to eat their sleepy time candies last night, and, well, I wrote a few drabbles. And they rhyme
Way up north, and to the west, is a town called Forest Grove
Where otters in rivers oft played and from their banks they dove
But in the woods outside the town, where sweet marrionberries grow
Live ogres who stink and hikers' heads they throw
So if you play and traipse the trails, but don't have heads to spare
Give the ogres a little something, to show them that you care
—You can't just leave without marrionberry pies to share!
What offering will make them all play nice?
Bags of long grain rice won't do, but children might suffice
100 word stories. Post all you like, maybe we'll dip in and use yours?
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