There once was a boy who had weird parents.
No matter how many times he told them not to, the weird parents did weird things whenever they went out into the world.
In the morning the weird mother always walked the boy to his bus stop.
"Bye-bye, honeycakes!" she'd call.
Then as the bus drove away, she'd blow a huge kiss and press her hand to her heart.
At twelve o'clock when the boy opened his lunchbox, he's always have a weird surprise.
And in the afternoon the weird father always walked him home. But not before he shook hands with everyone he met.
"Pleased to meet you. How do you do? Isn't it a lovely day?" he'd say.
More than anything, the boy dreaded the family's night out on the town. Every Saturday evening the weird father put on his weird hat and the weird mother combed her hair in a weird way.
Then they would dance all the way down the stairs to their weird car.
They were always early for the picture show, so the boy had to stand in line with them.
The weird mother always talked about the boy as if he wasn't there.
"My son has a belly button that sticks out. No one else in out family has one like it."
And the weird father always asked the boy to do something silly.
"Walk like a chicken," he'd say.
Of course the boy wouldn't, so the weird father did it instead.
When the movie began, the boy tried to enjoy it, but his weird parents always laughed out loud when no one else did.
At least things got better after the movie. The weird father always treated them to ice cream cones. And the weird mother always let the boy pick out a comic book.
At home they all played a double round of Parcheesi. And the weird parents never got mad when the boy won both games.
And when they tucked him into bed and kissed him good night, the weird parents always sang a little song.
"Sweet dreams,
We love you,
Good night,
Now don't let the bed bugs bite,
Don't let the bed bugs bite."
But as the boy lay in bed trying to sleep, he couldn't help wishing his parents weren't weird anymore.
Then he wished everyone else had weird parents.
Yet he knew that wasn't possible.
And somehow it didn't matter...
After all...
they were his parents, weird or not.
No matter how many times he told them not to, the weird parents did weird things whenever they went out into the world.
In the morning the weird mother always walked the boy to his bus stop.
"Bye-bye, honeycakes!" she'd call.
Then as the bus drove away, she'd blow a huge kiss and press her hand to her heart.
At twelve o'clock when the boy opened his lunchbox, he's always have a weird surprise.
And in the afternoon the weird father always walked him home. But not before he shook hands with everyone he met.
"Pleased to meet you. How do you do? Isn't it a lovely day?" he'd say.
More than anything, the boy dreaded the family's night out on the town. Every Saturday evening the weird father put on his weird hat and the weird mother combed her hair in a weird way.
Then they would dance all the way down the stairs to their weird car.
They were always early for the picture show, so the boy had to stand in line with them.
The weird mother always talked about the boy as if he wasn't there.
"My son has a belly button that sticks out. No one else in out family has one like it."
And the weird father always asked the boy to do something silly.
"Walk like a chicken," he'd say.
Of course the boy wouldn't, so the weird father did it instead.
When the movie began, the boy tried to enjoy it, but his weird parents always laughed out loud when no one else did.
At least things got better after the movie. The weird father always treated them to ice cream cones. And the weird mother always let the boy pick out a comic book.
At home they all played a double round of Parcheesi. And the weird parents never got mad when the boy won both games.
And when they tucked him into bed and kissed him good night, the weird parents always sang a little song.
"Sweet dreams,
We love you,
Good night,
Now don't let the bed bugs bite,
Don't let the bed bugs bite."
But as the boy lay in bed trying to sleep, he couldn't help wishing his parents weren't weird anymore.
Then he wished everyone else had weird parents.
Yet he knew that wasn't possible.
And somehow it didn't matter...
After all...
they were his parents, weird or not.
Before going to sleep,
I always closed the closet door.
I was even afraid to turn around and look.
When I was safe in bed, I'd peek...
sometimes.
One night I decided to get rid of my nightmare once and for all.
As soon as the room was dark, I heard him creeping toward me.
Quickly, I turned on the light and caught him sitting at the foot of my bed.
"Go away, Nightmare, or I'll shoot you," I said.
I shot him anyway.
My nightmare began to cry.
I was mad...
but not too mad.
"Nightmare, be quiet or you'll wake Mommy and Daddy," I said.
He wouldn't stop crying so I took him by the hand
and tucked him in bed
and closed the closet door.
I suppose there's another nightmare in my closet, but my bed's not big enough for three.