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A Foo Tale

In the Land of the Wumps where Gabools live somewhere,
There once was a Foo who made houses of hair.
All the Barbazzes laughed and made jokes of his shacks:
"Not one of those 'boxes' could take a few whacks!"

While the Bazzes all snickered, the builder kept pace.
"Be warned!" said the Foo with a frown on his face,
"For my instruments say a big storm will arrive
In four-point-eight hours and leave nothing alive."

With dismay the Foo watched as none heeded his cry;
They laughed all the harder saying, "Haha! Oh my!
So just how could ridiculous houses of fuzz
Save us from harm, if nothing else does?"

"You will see..." the Foo muttered, but everyone left
Abandoning him absolutely bereft
Of all hope that there'd be some Barbazz who'd believe
In what he would do and in what he'd forseen.

So tick-tocking away flew by four-point-eight hours.
Still working, the Foo made hair houses and towers,
But no cloud could be found o'er the Valley of Baz,
And to this very day, none ever has.

The Barbazzes felt sorry for the poor little Foo
Who's storm cloud prediction never came true.
"Why the strange houses?" asked those who'd care,
But what else would a Foo do than make houses of hair?

Learn more about this author, Daniel Symanzik.
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