Trying My Hand at Children’s Literature

The Curlee-Whurlee’s of Boxboro

Once upon a two-thirty-three,

Peg capered down a rainy street,

Her mother’s umbrella was black with pink dots

It kept out rain and thunder and growing up.


Peg’s little boots came right up to her knees,

So her mother let her splash as much as she pleased.

One splash, two splish,

Bright flash, squash-squish.


They came upon a granddaddy puddle,

That streaked the street with its thickening muddle,

And Peg’s hand slipped from her mother’s grasp

As she ran giggling forward to make a fine splash.


She felt raindrops as she tucked up her knees,

And came slapping down with both of her feet.

Now… have you ever held your breath, just for fun?

That’s how it felt when the puddle sucked Peg right up.


She heard a noise like the slurping of an almost-empty cup,

And smelled a smell like a soapy kind-of hiccup,

And saw a man like you sometimes see in fun-house mirrors

And felt a sinking in her stomach like a ship coming nearer.


“Peggy Pippen the Person, I presume?”

The man had on what could only be a costume,

His outfit jingled and shone with a thousand bells

And his little body puffed in great big swells.


“I’ve run all this way and I still was almost late,

Which is a great crime when you’ve had the date

Since the ripe old age of three hours minus eight,

And your first words were, “Never, ever make people wait.”

Peg didn’t quite know what to say,

Was this… could he… why did…. Are they…

The questions mixed together like marshmallows

And she found herself staring at the curious fellow.


Instead of flushing red his little ears began to grow,

And he cleared his throat before pointing above his nose.

There on his forehead were little red letters.

And Peg leaned close to make them out better.


“Peg of the Pippens at the twoest of thirty fours,

Will come through the puddliest puddle of doors,

Offer her your arm and escort her to town

By way of Jumblestreet and the On-The-Way-Down.”


Peg knew her letters and knew her words, too.

But that didn’t make her any less confused.

He had come all this way for her? And even knew her name?

It gave her a little thrill and scared her all the same.


The little man gave a not-so-little bow,

“On behalf of Boxboro, I’m Dexter DuBrow.”

He held out his arm like dangled spaghetti

And Peg consented as it began to rain confetti.

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