The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

In middle school we were given ‘agendas’ or weekly schedule-keeper-thingies.  In the margins of these I’d write nonsense notes to friends, actual class notes/things about homework, and sometimes poems or short-short stories. This was a poem I wrote sometime around Christmas in 8th grade.

Twas the night before X-Mas and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring.
Except dad’s spouse.
She was up for one thing
An’ it wasn’t one a Tim’s late night rings.

But dad didn’t wake up,
Nor did the pup.
Mom was out the door,
An’ on the creaky floor.

Still no one came bout’
So mom must notta been that lout.
Down the stairs she’d gone,
Hours before dawn.

She turned on the kitchen lights
So she’d have her seein’ rights.
She went to a cabinet,
To look for it.

Oh no! Eee gat! It’s all gone,
She’ll have to find out who ate it at dawn.
She returned upstairs,
Her eyes in evil glares.

In the bedroom, dad was awakened
An he had something home-bak-ed.
Mom lunged at him,
For the little tin.

But to mom’s dismay it was already eaten.
And for that, dad was thoroughly beaten.

What would be so tasty and great?
Underneath that little cabinet?
Only mom has such cravings,
That can also result in mad ravings.

Can you tell me what I speak of?
Naturally it’s CHOCOLATE of variety dove

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