Loud Weasels

I went into the forest one day and I saw a couple of weasels.
These weasels were not any ordinary weasels.
They were LOUD weasels.
They were loud like police sirens whirling through the street.
Loud like a baby screaming at the top of her lungs.
They were loud like opera singers!
I had to cover my ears they were so loud.
I soon ran because I could no longer hear.
I am glad that today I am not deaf.

Inside a Guitar

Inside a guitar lay cords never before been played.
Cords that taste like pineapple ice cream which is tart like a war head.
Cords that carry around a room like waves bouncing to the beach and back to the ocean.
But there are more than just cords in a guitar.
There is a city.
A city of picks that have fallen into the guitar.
Picks, triangle like the point of a house.
They are carefully discussing how they will make the unknown cords known.
They are like little businessmen.
This is what I see inside a guitar.

Bob got his license!!!

I just got my license!!!
WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP!!!
Maybe I should get a car before I start driving.
Yeah that would be a good idea.
Hey look there's one right there!!!
Wow, this is a done cool car right here.
Golly oh poop, there's no key!
I guess I'll just have to use my paper clip.
Oh, I better hurry, I think the owner of this cool car is coming out!
There, I got it.
O.K. here we go!!! zoooom zzzooom zoooooom.
Now I can go home and tell my mommy I got my license!!!

THE END!!!