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Thursday, August 10, 2006


   You may be my second kiddo, but you'll always be my first little one . . .
. . . . . hot damn that sounds bad if you have a dirty mind . . . not important, though. What's really important is that we rant about the original baby of the group, Miss Color Me Evil (who opted to inexplicably go with the American spelling of the first part of her name instead of her native, Canadian . . . I still wonder about that sometimes . . .). Now, I haven't rhymed any of these ego-strokes yet, and - being that she's my little writing student in a lot of ways - I figure she can get the rhyming stroke (that sounds dirty too)!

Ahem . . .


There are strange things said in the flattened bed
of the province of cows and oil;
And you know they start in blatant part
from one whose feelings boil;
She'll freak you out with but a shout
of curses as only she can;
but despite the burn we all still return
to my little Ochibi-chan.


Now Color Me, age thirteen plus three,
is a child of powerful charm.
You must understand that in the wrong hand
all this power could cause massive harm.
Her style of speech can dare to teach
that youths are not all bad.
Her "purity" and maturity
Make all the rest seem sad.

There's little doubt I have to shout
praise for her home, I know.
There's constant flux in finding canucks
online, here at myO.
And lo, behold, a girl so bold
in Edmonton, at last!
I've family there who said beware,
but she and I had such a blast!

I had been in town, she said "come on down,
and find me inside this place!
We need to deceive but I still can't believe
that'll we'll fin'lly meet face to face!"
So off and away we spent the midday,
running around the mall.
Optometrist, lunch, photobooth (and scrunch!),
we certainly had a ball.

The time after that we had many a chat
about work and film and school.
Her vibrant persona and shining corona
remain ever dripping with cool.
She'll make you a friend, one whom she'll defend
with ferocity not unlike sharks.
It's easy to see how young Color Me
has touched us with her flames and sparks.

Closer by much to my schooling and such,
she tried out her hand with words.
And with but two tries she's conquered the prize
from the slightly less talented nerds.
I'm not one to hide all of my great pride
in this girl whom I've helped in this field.
To now see her drive to write and contrive
some more, well, my eyes are peeled.


It's true you're not the kind to trot
away from bitter pasts.
And in your blood there is a flood
of anger, oft', alas.
You sometimes whine, Ochibi' mine,
and ruin a peaceful day.
Your language is dung, you're still very young . . .
. . . and I'd have you no other way.


Damn, kiddo. You ain't half-bad for an angry, angsty teenager.

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