Mad Hair Day
In New York, lived a boy with fair,
And wonderfully weird hair.
The locals said, “This may just be,
The strangest hair you’ll ever see.”
The story goes, or so I’m told,
That when the boy was ten years old,
Out the sky—with no forewarning—,
On a quiet Sunday morning,
Came a hundred thousand volt,
—Quite terrifying—lightning bolt.
It hit him square upon the head,
To which, I’m told, he promptly said,
“Watch out, Mama, I think my hair,
Is going to sprout. Stand back! Beware!”
She looked at him, then made a yelp,
And called her husband. “Quick, come help!”
The boy’s fair hair let off a glow,
And then, at pace, began to grow.
In a flash it passed his shoulder,
Making him look ten years older,
Then shortly after, cries of, “Mum!
My hair has grown right passed my bum,”
His Mum, in shock, looked at his mop,
And said out loud, “When will this stop!”
The answer was, as soon she found,
It stopped three inches off the ground.
Enough, I’m told, to just expose,
His ankles, feet and tiny toes.
They stood there, dumb. A moment passed,
And then his father said, at last,
“What on earth shall we do now?
He looks just like a highland cow,”
His mother cried, “I’ve got a plan!
We’ll put him in your transit van,
Then take him straight to Charlie Chop©,
The local high street barber’s shop,”
So off they sped as fast they dare,
And placed him in the barber’s chair.
Then Charlie gave his hair a grip,
Then moment later snip snip snip.
His hair fell quickly to the floor,
But then his mum let out a roar,
“Look, look! It’s growing back!” she said,
But this time it grew back bright red.
And quite unlike it did before,
Not flowing neatly to the floor.
Instead, his new and fiery hair,
Shot up like flames into the air.
“By jove!” the barber said with glee,
“I never in my life did see,
A boy with such fantastic, rare,
And brilliantly flame-red hair.
From this day forth, I do proclaim,
This child will have a brand new name,
From New York State to Illinois,
I hereby name you, Fire Boy©!”
The End
