Bitey and Walter

On a dark and dreary morning,

like something out of Poe,

sat Walter the stuffed rabbit,

who's fur was white as snow.

And with him was Bitey,

his companion of some kind,

who was a vampire puppet,

with a grotesquely twitsted mind.

The pair lounged lazily,

on a messy orchid bed,

in a room that was never clean,

and quite possibly harboring something dead.

They observed a piece of paper,

scribbled on with red ink,

that had been written by a girl,

who's name I dare not think.

"It really is quite dreadful,"
Said Bitey, in a completly monotone voice.

As Walter nodded vigorously,

attempting to get his yarn mouth moist.

"I honestly agree,

my disturbed little friend,

It really is rubbish,

from beginning to end."

It was Bitey's turn to nod,
the bell around his neck ringing deep,

as he conjured a simile,

that described the words the paper did read.

"It's rather like something,

that George Orwell would write,

after being dead for five years,

and maggots had begun to bite."

"It really is an atrocity,
A sonnet written by a fool,

we must do all that's in our power

to keep her from bringing this to school."
Exclaimed Walter,

as he grabbed the crumpled paper in his hand.
As Bitey leaned in close,

and told him of a flawless plan.

It was a dark and dreary morning,
that her dreadful poem died,

for the pair had burnt it,

and the ashes they did hide.