Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The Twelve-Fingered Gleacher

I'll tell you right now of the twelve-fingered gleacher,
That's bigger and badder than any wild creature.
Grotesque and deformed, he causes grown men to weep,
And women to scream, and fall down in a heap.

When you see him, your hair won't just stand on its end;
It'll freeze in that state, and won't ever descend.
Your knees will be knocking, as your brain starts to shiver,
And your goosebumps will rise and stand all a-quiver.

For he's the ugliest creature that you've ever seen;
He's purple and yellow with teeth that are green;
His fur is all matted and it's covered with grime,
(Except when he sneezes and it's dripping with slime.)

His eyeball is orange and spins in his head,
All the better to see what's behind and ahead.
His ears are like chimneys that produce toxic smoke;
So his foes will expire with a gasp and a choke.

He has seven legs, with six feet on each one
And half a toe each, which makes twenty-one.
Of arms he has six, with a hand and a half each;
Four fingers per hand with a long, grasping reach.

And now I can see, you have a case of the fidgets,
For your calculation works out to thirty-six digits.
But what you have missed in your quick computation:
The twelve-fingered gleacher didn't learn multiplication.

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