Jetpack Croc Chase

Friday morning, I’m set to get it done One quick break,

and the work is gone Shreds on the floor,

and my hands start to shake (oh no) I slam the table,

anger in my throat

Pain through my fist like a bad old joke

Then I see Floyd out by the dam

Homework in his mouth like a prize he can’t damn

I’m yelling from the bank like it matters at all He’s almost

deaf—he won’t answer my call But he swims right over,

I start to believe Then drops it back in the water like

a thief (hey!) So I dive in,

freezing, can’t see a thing Murky water and my lungs start to

sting

Down at the bottom,

a crocodile grins Five meters of trouble with my homework again (ohhhh)

I scream underwater, bubbles in my face It wakes up mean,

jaws snapping for a taste I bolt out dripping,

legs on fire I tell myself: ground speed can’t climb any higher

But this one doesn’t need to run at all There’s a shiny

pack on its back—then it’s gone Looping the sky with my work

in its teeth Like that was the one thing it lived to

achieve (what?!) I grab my stone-age Nokia,

call the cops—fast They show up quick,

but they think it won’t last They talk fines,

say it’s all in my head So I walk them to the

kitchen and I run instead

(hahaha) I slam the chopper door,

flip switches in the dark Wobble,

then I catch it,

and I tear off like a spark

I find that jetpack croc,

it’s running out of juice

My bullets bounce right off—so what’s the use?

I get two meters close,

snap proof, then I spin Into the ocean,

and I’m swimming back again (ahhhh) I crawl back home,

soaked through the day Furious parents got a lot to say No

homework left—just a story to tell (oh well)