Monday, January 01, 2007

The Mad Scientist's Labratory

Darkness falling on the queer room,
Beware to go in there, for you may hear a sonic boom.
The musty air smelling of wine,
On the floor are bits of twine.

On the tables are bubbling potions,
Hiding on the shelves are containers filled with lotions.
Bubbling concoctions shining green,
Frankenstein statues placed around the room, tall and lean.

Just then, a crack of lightning flashes in the air,
A mad scientist walks in wringing his hands in despair.
He checks to make sure the door is locked,
It is a potion that he is ready to concoct.

He scuttles around,
Trying not to make sound.
Taking out this and that,
Occasionally stopping to pet his sneaky black cat.

On the wood table is a dusty book,
Taken from the bookshelf nook.
The pages are yellow and burnt on the side,
It feels like there is something the book wants to hide.

On the ground stands a black cauldron filled to the top
You can tell it was not bought from a shop.
The legs are carved exquisitely like bats,
Although their bodies are very fat.

As the scientist pours in that and this,
A drop falls on his white coat with a sizzling hiss.
With a shriek, the cauldron explodes in a flash of light,
As the sirens can be heard, the mad scientist will have to take

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