This was made in English Class for English Class based on a short story that we read about a man named Waldo.
...
Waldo Jeffers
Waldo Jeffers loved a girl,
Her voice would make his whole world whirl.
When school ended they broke away,
Although he wished that she would stay.
But while in pennsylvania alone,
Marsha's in Wisconsin, at her home.
She's having fun and seeing guys,
And telling Waldo all these lies.
But now he worries and dreams at night,
Of nightmares that are filled with fright.
Where Marsha's drunk and Waldo's annoyed,
And she's going to bed with some random boy.
On thursday, Waldo’s idea was planned,
Because he just could not stand,
The fact that Marsha would not call,
Or reply to his sent mail at all.
He went to the shop on the other street,
He was so obsessed that he could not eat.
He bought some tape, staples and a box,
He even bought about fifty locks.
A few air holes, some water, and some food,
Was all he needed and he wasn't being crude.
So by friday afternoon, he was all set up,
And all was left was the top to close up.
At three oclock, the postman came,
Who picked up the box along with a frame.
In to the truck, the box was placed,
And Waldo thought his plan was aced.
"Oh Marha'll be so happy today."
Waldo thought as the truck did sway.
"She'll take me to a movie, and kiss me too,
After we grab something to chew."
Meanwhile, Marsha was setting her hair,
She had been at Bill's little lair.
Getting too drunk, but it was just a fling,
Bill had agreed it was really nothing.
Her friend named Sheila was at her home,
As she didn’t like talking on the phone.
They were talking and gossiping about Marsha’s night,
And how Bill had arms that put up a fight.
“He was like an octopus, hands everywhere.”
laughed Marsha as she gestured with her hands in the air.
And they laughed and they giggled all about Bill,
And how he had... wonderful skills.
Then Mr Jamieson who delivered the mail,
Delivered the box with free hammer and nail.
“It’s a special deal” he said with a smile,
“And I’ll even through in this little hand-file”.
When he had left, they stood round the box,
With darting eyes like a cunning fox.
“Oh what do you think it is?” Sheila asked supprised,
Because she thought that mail was prized.
Marsha shrugged and looked around,
A label on the box she found.
It was from Waldo, that little shmuck,
Who Marhsa remembered as nothing but muck.
Sheila scoffed and coughed at the mention of his name,
As she only liked boys, that held lots of fame.
They thought about opening it, but with what?
Nothing would open it, not even a pot!
Some scissors? No. They were much too small,
And when you tried to open it, they would just fall.
A metal cutter? Ah! Now that was something,
Marsha fetched it while Waldo did sing.
“Only a few seconds now”, he thought to himself,
“And then all the past will be up in some shelf.”
But Oh! When he peeped through the air hole again,
The cutter was huge, a hundred times of a pen!
Now he was cared, and shook with fear,
That thing looked just like a long sharp spear!
She’d better be careful opening the crate,
Or Waldo would be left in a bloody state.
But the blade was too big and there was no room,
To make a slit in the cardboard, and now he was doomed.
“I’ve got an idea!” Sheila grabbed the large knife,
Alas, Waldo didn’t know about his future life.
With a deep breath, she raised her hand,
This was even better than she planned.
One small strike and it would all be over,
She might miss. Of course – for she wasn’t sober.
It plunged into the box, through the tape, through the card,
And through the cushioning that wasn’t that hard.
Into the middle of Waldo’s head,
Now he was absolutely certainly dead.
The blood pulsed out, Waldo was gone,
His love was broken even though he had sworn.
Now Marsha was free, but did she care,
For the life she had taken and could not spare.
