primeideal

For a

poetree challenge; writing the story of these two.

There once was a Froozle named Jarry LeBleu
Who paced through the town, to and fro, fro and to.
His socks were well-worn, and they fit on his feet
So Jarry tried hard to like walking the street.
It wasn't like there was a problem with that;
The problem, however, came from Jarry’s hat.

Now Jarry’s top hat wasn’t like yours or mine.
Instead, it made room for fresh fruit on a vine.
Nobody knew why; they assumed it was magic.
But Jarry found this sort of happenstance tragic.
He scarcely could move; it was just his bad luck.
Everyone who passed by wanted berries to pluck!

There was Mrs. Mulmuller, who thought they looked tasty,
And Comrade Cordoba, who’d bake something pasty.
At first Jarry told them to take the whole lot;
Someone else would be stuck with them. He would not.
But to his dismay, both alas and alack,
Whenever folks plucked them, they always grew back!

“Why not sell your hat?” all his peers would advise.
But Jarry had read up and was plenty wise,
The Froozles distrusted lots of haberdashers
And at the prospect, quickly became teeth-gnashers.
Some chap named Cubbins had become quite upset...
(It’s all in the books. Go read up. I forget.)

“Why not get a pet who will snack on your fruit?”
“You might think that pets can be cozy and cute.
But haven’t you seen the Snarfish Golipaunt?
Or Yipping-Yip-Yipperies out on a jaunt?
You have to go walk them and they aren’t that great.
And that is before all of them defecate.”

“Then what of a friend who will pluck every berry?”
“What need of a friend do I have?” wondered Jarry.
“They’re jealous of you when you want to be glad,
They talk all about their problems when they’re sad,
They drag you down with them--or else they grow up,
Forgetting about you. Thanks, I’ll chance the pup.”

“Then what of the Odder Ostrechies?” “What things?”
“They’re much like the ostriches. But they have wings.”
“I don’t think I follow.” “They perch on your arm,
There’s no need to scratch and they won’t cause you harm.
You don’t have to walk them; you just walk along,
The Odder Ostrechy will join you in song.”

Well, it took awhile to ease Jarry’s doubt,
But in time, whenever he would walk about,
The Odder Ostrechy would sit on his finger,
Humming and snacking and happy to linger.
It’s not quite a kid and it’s not quite a lover
But as it gnawed berries, it gladly would hover.