The Toys In Your Bed

Do you ever wonder what happens to the toys in your bed?
The toys on the floor?
The ones left forgotten,
Alone by your door?

What happens to those
Less fortunate souls
The ones whose hearts you broke?
And shredded to bits?
Let's look at this bloke.

Now this toy is normal,
Not special, not plain,
He roams 'round the house
With brown eyes glinting back
At the scurrying, scavenging, sweet little mouse.

What he does to the sweet little scavenging mouse,
Is the same of a monster in need of a snack
It's not caring or kind,
The way he treats it
The best way to see it is to look at it blind.

First, the horrid thing done by this mad, crazy beast,
As the mouse is discovered sneaking food away home.
The beast doesn't like this and so he goes to it,
Then quick as a snap, the mouse has no spine.
It was sharply removed when the mouse the beast hit.

Now dead, the beast can do whatever he wants
To dispose of the mouse he just took the life of.
What is the norm for creatures as he?
Well, the first thing to do is to check that all things,
Asleep and unwoken, undisturbed be.

Then like an arrow just piercing the skin,
He breaks through the fur of the mouse
And the bones.
Removing just one thing
So the mouse can't make clones.

Then on with his task
What awaits him
Look!
See!
He crushes the terrible thing he just took.

There are many things
This creature could do
To dispose of the rest
Of the mouse that lay strewn
On the floor, but your creatures love tests.

He thinks of a way to hide - in plain sight,
The mouse he just killed,
Just thrown on the floor
He thinks and he thinks,
And then thinks some more.

He thinks up a plan
To dispose of the proof
That he is not as innocent as you found.
His plan is so simple, so elegant and grand.
His plan is to throw the remains on the ground.

Now this in itself may not look all that great,
But believe me,
The minds of the beasts are beyond any you know.
His plan involves crushing and beating and smashing,
All after roasting it by the firelight glow.

This beast has a plan to char the sweet mouse.
The same mouse he killed just moments before
When he saw the young mouse scurry across the floor.
He will not eat it, nor save it, nor freeze it.
Oh no. But he will do so, so much more.

He first finds a toothpick he thinks will work nicely
To stab the poor mouse he kidnapped.
Then, to save the wood of the stick,
He covers it all with some wax that will drip
On the fire when he makes that first prick.

He tests out the strength of the stick in his hand
Then prods it against the poor mouse
To make sure it won't break, split, or rot.
Now comes the hard part of this creatures plan:
He stabs the toothpick through the mouse that he's got.

He makes sure it's good,
A job well done,
Then he starts up a fire to burn the poor thing
Until it's completely cooked
And from the timer there's a *ding!

When the mouse is done roasting,
The beast cuts him up.
Into little pieces that won't be seen
By any man, woman, or child.
No matter if the eye is keen.

Then he spreads it around
On the floor of your house,
Finding it ever so hard to hold in,
As he dances around throwing bits all around,
His song: a-rin-tin-din-din-din

This is not the worst,
Not even close to it!
Your sweet, sincere, cuddlies are all like this -hear!
Whenever you feel alone and afraid,
Don't worry, your beast is right next to your ear.

So go on now and say
what I know you must think
What foolish I spread
'Round the world in a blink,
Just remember, you don't know what happens to the toys in your bed.