The Don't Drink Bees Blog

A monster lives in my garage
That beast is quite athletic
He makes my friends and family too
Look physically pathetic
 
Because, you see, he’s 93
And could run marathons with ease
While we couch potatoes
Cough and wheeze
Just watching a marathon
On the TV
 
That monster is in amazing shape
It’s the key to his longevity
It’s how he makes such grand escapes
Like using chimes for a trapeze
 
Yes, he can flip and swing and roll
At the jingle of some keys
Or vault from the floor with my dad’s fishing pole
At the approach of creaking knees
 
Our garage is a monster paradise
It fulfills his every need
Empty overhead storage for his sleeping
Bulk packaged snacks for him to feed
 
And a variety of sports equipment
That we slothful types must buy
To fulfill New Year’s resolutions
Yes, this year is when we’ll try
To get up off this sofa
(Well, at least for another fry)
 
From chin up bars to Dad’s bench press
Stationary bikes to ankle weights
My balls for ping-pong, squash, tennis
Mom’s treadmill, inline skates
 
That monster has a well-stocked gym
To keep him strong and buff
(Though getting away from us, sadly
Could not be all that tough)
 
In exchange for our hospitality
(Unknown to my family)
The monster keeps our things web-free
And oils up all the machinery
Which could come in quite handy
And make us all so healthy
If we ever turned off our TV