The teacher smiled as she looked at the poem Chowder had made. She had asked him to write a simple four-line poem about worms and flowers. But he had taken it a step farther and made a truly excellent free-verse poem. When she looked at the poem she smiled, this poem was a small bit above what a simple 8-year old could do.

Eat the people, that's all they are good for

Then step into the world of cheese, that's right, walk this way

Walk down the aisles of the movie theater of life and know that g-o-d spells god

The people ride snakes instead of cars, and the drive ins are crowded

The drive-in movie reminds me of snake pits I see in museums

Weird pink bunnies dance in front of my stone dead head

The blue elephants try desperately to tell me the future of mankind

What is the future I asked, they don't answer, they vanish

Now I guess I'm all alone inside an igloo in the center of the sun

When I die could you please burn my winter coat

There are secrets and fifty dollar bills inside that you shouldn't know

But finally my love and the meaning of life has come to me

My house has burnt down, it was made of wood coming from a tree

But perhaps it is the pink daffodils fault that I am messed up as I am

If the daffodils would leave me alone I'd know where I stand

The democracy of the pink cauliflowers on the sun is more than I can bear

I'm going bald, I'm losing sight, I can't see my own hair

The pink cauliflowers have long since withered and died

The daffodils turn black and leave the blindspot of my boiling eyes

My house's wood turned into bricks and started magically building itself again

At last my love has gotten tired, and has deserted me

Thank you for burning my secrets and my stolen money that I stole from zeusadite

My igloo has since fallen into a black hole and reappeared on Jupiter

I've found out that the future is dim and evil and doesn't exist

The blue elephants tell me that the bunnies have the future, but they won't give it up

The bunnies stop dancing and begin to kick my little head

I ride the snakes gentle coiling as I watch the movie

Yeah, feels nice, like an easy chair almost, mmmmmmmmm

Orgasmic pleasure as I ride the snakes gentle movements

As I ride the pleasure train the hours tick by slowly on their acid heart beats

The snakes are happy as I ride their scaly and cold bodies

I feel like I'm sitting on a lake of pure tranquility

Hmmmmm, feels so good to float on the snake pit

The bones in the snakes rub gently against my back and it feels like a massge

The snake pit has taken away my cares

The people leave their snakes cause the snakes won't leave me

The snakes know that I am an innocent man, and they will take care of me

The snakes take control of the world to keep their new baby man safe and warm

The teacher liked the poem that her student had made. Yet the poem met none of the criteria she set. It wasn't four lined, it didn't rhyme, and it wasn't about worms and flowers. Therefore, she had no choice but to give the poem an F.