I’m Messy Marvin and I’m in quite a mess.
A mess that I don’t know how to address.
I’m not even sure quite where to begin.
Listen up for a moment and I’ll fill you right in.
My Dad’s truck has a dead monster inside.
There’s an atrocious smell when he gives us a ride.
He drives my sister and me to school each day,
and his truck smells smelly like rot and decay.
My Dad has been driving this truck for awhile.
“About ten years” he says with a smile.
So it’s strange that the monster had never appeared.
My Sister and I think that’s frightfully weird.
Now I’m not scared of monsters like you may think.
But I really don’t like dead monsters that stink.
I just can’t seem to figure out where he died.
I’ve tried and I’ve searched and I’ve searched and I’ve tried.
So how do I know it’s a monster you say?
Well it all started just the other day,
When my Dad said to my Sister and me,
“You’ve made a monstrous mess of my truck you see!”
My Dad blamed the smell on my sister and me.
He said “it’s the French fries and soda and candy.”
“The food that you eat when I’m driving you places.”
“The food that you spill as you’re stuffing your faces.”
What do messes have to do with monsters, I thought?
That’s a subject in school I’ve never been taught.
But Dad must be right because Dad’s know best.
About monsters and messes and all of the rest.
So he must be correct, it’s because of our mess.
He must know something, he wouldn’t just guess.
He must know the monster came from our trash.
He must know it grew from a soda-pop splash.
So I pictured this monster with all of my might.
What a sight it must be, a horrible fright!
Made from the garbage we throw on the floor
The garbage we never pick up anymore.
I pictured his body was a large paper plate.
Greasy and dirty from some breakfast I ate.
His arms and his legs, long strands of French fries.
Salt and ketchup connecting his shins to his thighs.
I pictured his round, creepy face was a waffle.
Half soaked in syrup and looking quite awful.
A bite from one side meant one eye was not there.
Like a pirate he had only one he could spare.
His eye and his ears and likely his nose,
I pictured as stale, crusty Cheerios.
His big grinning mouth was a straw from a drink.
Smoking a cigar that’s an old sausage link.
I pictured his clothes were some discarded napkins,
And pieces of foil that Pop-Tarts had been wrapped in.
With a handful of tissues I’d used for my nose
I pictured he’d fashioned some socks for his toes.
Chicken Nuggets, I pictured, he wore as his shoes.
Soaked in ketchup and starting to ooze.
A popsicle stick he used as a cane.
Because his French fry appendages caused him some pain.
Now I’m not scared of monsters, just like I said
But this picture I pictured filled me with dread.
That this monster had been living inside my Dad’s truck.
Wreaking his havoc and running amuck!
But now he is dead and we sure need to find him.
Maybe Dad will help, I just need to remind him.
If we don’t do something about this dead smelly ghoul.
I might have to start riding the bus to school!
So, I think I’ll start trying to keep his truck cleaner.
By eating with more of a grown-up demeanor.
And I’ll leave you with just a bit of advice.
Listen up closely, I won’t say this twice.
Next time you’re riding in your Mom or Dad’s car.
And drinking some juice or eating a candy bar.
Please try to keep it tidy and neat.
Or you may find a monster living under your seat!
The Brown Road Chronicles 