There was once a young boy in his room,
In which many cakes did loom,
He lacked a name,
The writer to blame,
So it was decided he'd be called a smelly zoo.
No, that name isn't right,
Try again, guess it correctly, you might,
His name is now John,
You didn't get it wrong,
And now his face is of delight.
Upon his room and wall,
A great deal of posters are sprawl,
Mostly of Nicholas Cage,
That great movie sage,
Who's movies he always bawled.
Now he looks at his computer,
For which is used for hacking, not shooters,
A chum wants to talk,
Or maybe ironically squawk,
As their level of irony tops the booter.
Their conversation takes quite some time,
As this friend begins rapping in rhythm,
He's asked to stop,
But he continues his bop,
So John checks off on a dime.
Now we switch points of view,
Knowing one child to two,
She lacks a name,
This sounds the same,
So the one to guess it is you.
You suppose it's Flighty Broad,
Looking at her to see if she'll nod,
But you missed it again,
And she's easy to offend,
As she reads deeply into your goad.
Her name is now Rose,
A good guess you suppose,
Well that name is correct,
Though now she will suspect,
Your passive-aggressive nature has arose.
She is in her house,
White shirt, with a skull, and blouse.
She likes to knit,
But not wizards one bit,
And secretive to the point of a mouse.
She talks to a friend,
One who's advice is always a lend,
It's like they know the future,
Though highly a luture,
As she's sure it might be pretend.
Now we move on to a cool kid,
One who's pretty awesome and wicked,
Just like the last,
His name yet to be cast,
So this goes to you, winner of the bid.
You don't know which name to pick,
You'll go with Insufferable Prick,
But before you finish a word,
He takes his sword,
And slices your sentence like a stick.
His slice was a close shave,
Guess again, you'll go with Dave,
Your suspicions are lead,
As he barely tips his head,
As you guessed what would be on his grave.
This cool kid is ironic,
His irony at the speed of super sonic,
And he lights sick fires,
Which could melt tires,
And cure illness like a tonic.
He then talks to John,
As he was the rapper all along,
Their conversation will blend,
As you hear it again,
So you skip it, knowing it's long.
You finally meet the last one,
Who's sleeping and probably dreaming of fun,
But she is asleep,
Maybe counting some sheep,
So to guess her name won't be easily won.
You think you you'll play a game,
In the action of guessing her name,
It'd be a gas,
If it were Farmstink Buttlass,
And she can't correct you, so it'll remain.
What's this, writing on a note?
It says it's not nice to gloat,
And that this note has been made,
By the girl who's called Jade,
Though forgiveness is what she'll promote.
She will now awake,
As you see she's surrounded with gardens, not cake,
She has many hobbies and interests,
Many things, time, she's invest,
And a system of colours that's hard to make.
She talks to everyone,
Giving some advice, riddles, and fun,
But now she's asleep,
Her attention you didn't keep,
And she needs to stay on the run.