This poem is, as said before, one by Wendy Cope. I made it for an English assignment, which was meant to be 400 words, and decided to put it on here. It is just one chapter, and probably won't have anything added.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kenneth, he is owned by Wendy Cope. I do not own Nike, whom is the Greek goddess of victory and a shoe brand.

Reviews will be valued.

KENNETH

the boy who was too fond of bubble-gum and met an untimely end

The chief defect of Kenneth Plumb

Was chewing too much bubble-gum.

He chewed away with all his might,

Morning, evening, noon and night.

Even (oh, it makes you weep)

Blowing bubbles in his sleep.

"Thirty-six, thirty-seben, thirty-eight, thirty-bline-"

CRASH! Not the most subtle entrance you could imagine. Unless your idea of a classy appearance was crashing through the ceiling due to not being prepared and bad wing handling. Luckily I was not fully materialized when I hit the roof, but I was by the time I hit the floor.

"Hoo teh - damn!" Pop!

"My wings!" I howled, leaping up. "You little c- I mean, you're a little careless."

"Hoo teh 'ell ar oo?"

"What? Could you please speak legibly?"

"Blah!"

"Aw! And now you just spit it out!" by this time I was beginning to regret signing up.

"Who the hell are you?" now I understood, since he lost the stuff in his gob.

"I'm Nike. You're Kenneth Plumb. No blasphemy around me, mate," I pick at my wings. "Great. Just after I had them fluffed."

"Are you an angel?"

"Ah, ah, yes. That's right. Guardian angel. For you," I nod madly. "See the wings, halo and stuff . . ."

"Where's you dress?"

"Robe? Um, ah, er, it's being cleaned. I spilled some wine on it, not wine, Mountain Dew. Yeah, it didn't look nice, so I thought I might come in . . . um . . . this. You know, brown is the new white, white is the new black, black is the new red, red is the new yellow, yellow is the new paisley, paisley is . . . um, not good. Never mind."

"What about a harp?"

"Um . . . it's being restrung. It was off tune, I have short fingers, erm . . . hey, wait, what would you know, Ken?"

He still looked perplexed. I went on nonetheless.

"Now, Kenneth, I am here about that . . . affliction of yours."

"What? Not about the gum again," he stamped his foot, and tossed a few cubes into his mouth.

"Oh, come on kid," I was trying hard to be polite. This was possibly the most foul being I had ever met. His mouth was coated with gum of every colour, except mint white. What a sight! It was a miracle he could bite, let alone stand up! He had a runty look, like all he had been eating for the entirety of his life was bubblegum. Was a fair chance too. He was shaved absolutely bald, even his eyebrows. A permanent greasy smear covered his face.

He simply couldn't get enough!

His face was covered with the stuff.

As for his teeth — oh, what a sight!

It was a wonder he could bite.

His loving mother and his dad

Both remonstrated with the lad.

Ken repaid them for the trouble

By blowing yet another bubble.

"Now, Kenneth, Ken, Ken, Kenny. This addiction of yours isn't right," I say kindly as I could bear. "Just take a look at your parents. Haven't they remonstrated with you?"

"Yeah. So?" he shrugged, and blew another bubble.

"Well," I flinched as he popped it close to my face. "Aren't you being selfish?"

"Yeah. So?" was his un-varied answer.

I sighed inwardly. This wasn't going to be as easy as I had hoped. Just my luck to get stuck with this freak that's addicted to sugary rubber. I swear, somewhere up there, there is someone who doesn't like me. Actually, there is a lot of somebodies, but I could name all of them.

"Look Kenneth-"

"Don't call me that!" he interrupted insolently.

"Ken," I amended. "I am here to help you. There is nothing to fear."

"Whatever," another packet went into his mouth.

"Kenneth," I repeat, nearly straining something with the effort to stay calm. "If you take me for granted, you will regret it."

"Whatever," with another sticky pop, my temper broke.

"Listen, you animated candy bag!" I yell, trying to flare my wings, but found them stuck together with gum. Uncaring about this, I go on. "I'm not just here for your benefit! If I don't-don't get this job done, I'll end up dealing with the environment like some common nymph! Cleaning oily penguins! And if I do happen to get to that, I swear that I will-"

"Ken, son?" another voice interrupted. I instantly stopped. That was lucky. I just might have-

"Is somebody there with you?"

Kenneth looked around him. His room was empty. Only an imprint in the gummed carpet and a feather with a tip of pink was an indication that anyone else had come here. Shrugging, glaring at the ceiling, he picked up a bag of gum packets and yelled for his father.

"Dad! I need more!"

'Twas no joke. It isn't funny

Spending all your pocket money

On the day's supply of gum —

Sometimes Kenny felt quite glum.

As he grew, so did his need —

There seemed no limit to his greed:

At ten he often put away

Ninety seven packs a day.

"Wait in the car. I'll just be ten minutes," the door slammed. His father jogged up the steps of the bank. Kenneth lay bank in his seat and idly tossed a few pieces of gum in his mouth.

"Now, haven't you been mulling over my advice?" Nike suddenly appearing reclining beside him.

"Shove it," Ken responded, instantly finding him annoying. He shoved another handful into his mouth.

"That wasn't very nice, was it?" The angel's tantrum seemed to have faded to be replaced by a laid back tone and manner. This was just getting more irritating for Ken.

"Tho? Wa do lie air?"

"You don't want to keep doing that," Nike advised. "Not good for you. It'll rot you teeth, gum doesn't get digested and it will tangle up your insides."

"Lair, glight," half a packet. This was nearly level with his record of five and a quarter packets in his mouth.

"Aren't you a charmer?" Nike stretched as best he could in the cramped car. "Now, I won't be leaving until you learn your lesson."

"Wa 'esson?" he squished his mouth's contents into a denser ball, then dropped some more pieces in.

"A lesson that you should consider good advice and not take people for granted," the angel inspected his nails. "Not to mention that giving in to vices is terribly bad for you and everyone else around you."

"Get losk! Guy gont gare gwat goo gwant. Go get-" at this point even with a mouth full of gum he made a perfectly decipherable rude comment.

"You imprudent little-" the angel controlled himself. "I said you would regret it. I said you'll learn your lesson."

"Go?" another handful. Now he had set a new record for himself. It was a tight fit, but he thought he could handle it. Maybe he could even get into the Guinness book of world records! That would be the sort of goal his parents would have to accept!

"Maybe you shouldn't do that," Nike advised, more absently than before.

"Guy gont gare!" he crammed another handful into his mouth.

"Stop, don't," Nike said, noncommited.

This was getting harder. He shoved in squares of gum one by one, fitting the contents around teeth and behind his lips. It was reaching the back of his tongue, but he had enough skill in hiding gum in his throat to resist the sick feeling.

"No, no, I can't stand it. Stop, please stop," Nike said, same as before. "No more."

Cramming several more into the enormous wad in his mouth, Ken suddenly stopped dead.

Then at last he went too far—

Sitting in his father's car,

Stuffing gum without a pause,

Found that he had jammed his jaws.

"Oh no, I can't stop you. I feel so- oh, you have stopped," Nike noticed. Ken made some worried sounds.

"Whassamatter, mate? Bit too much for you? Bet by now, you could have jammed your jaws . . . jammed you jaws . . . oh, dear." He suddenly sat up straight.

"Guh-guh-guh!" Ken exclaimed.

"Holy shi- shining light! I knew this would happen. I knew it, I knew it, I told you so! Wow, how many packets did ya shove in there? Five, six?"

With trembling hands, Kenneth held up eight fingers.

"Hoo, boy. Isn't that something you don't see every decade!" the angel seemed more amused than distressed.

Ken tried to chew the mouthful, but his jaw couldn't move a centimetre. He tried to claw it out with his fingers, but his nails were cut and the stuff was slippery and wouldn't come out. Dribble was starting to fall from his lips, and tears were dripping from his eyes.

"Careful what you do, if you get a blocked nose you could suffocate!" Nike looked out of the window. "Oh look, here comes your daddy. Bet he won't be too rapt."

"Go, gont go!" Ken protested.

"Kenneth, what's wrong?" his father noted something was wrong. "Your face is going red! You're all sweaty! Are you sick?"

He nudged his dad and pointed to

The mouthful that he couldn't chew.

'Well, spit it out if you can't chew it!'

Ken shook his head. He couldn't do it.

"Dad! Help me! My mouth is too full of gum and its stuck!" he tried to say, but with his tongue, teeth and lips unable to help in pronouncing the words, he could only make vague guttural sounds.

"Gag! Gel ge! Gy gout ith goo gull gov gung gan gits guck!" was what came out, and his father was none the wiser.

"Wait a minute, have you been chewing gum?" his father made a face. "Did you get anything on the seats?"

"Gag!"

"No, wait, did you . . . did you . . . jam your jaws?" a look of horrified realization came on his face, at last. "Stupid boy! I warned you!"

"Gluh-gluh gloo," said Ken miserably.

"Spit it out, fool!"

"Guy gant!" tears ran down his face, he sniffed wetly.

"Spit it out!"

"Go . . ."

"Oh, god. I'll see if I . . . I'll see if I can get help. Stay right there, just stay right there. I'll get help, I'll get . . ." he ran off in a panic. "Stay calm!"

Before long he began to groan—

The gum was solid as a stone.

Dad took him to a builder's yard;

They couldn't help. It was too hard.

They called a doctor and he said,

'This silly boy will soon be dead.

His mouth's so full of bubblegum

No nourishment can reach his tum.'

Nike returned without a sound. "It's gunna get hard soon. It'll be as solid as a stone. I suggest that you repent yourself as quickly as possible."

Ken turned pleading eyes on the angel, which for some reason was not looking as angelic as before. "Gike! Gafe ge!"

"First of all, it's 'Gikee', with a long E on the end. Secondly, what was my lesson to teach you? To teach you how to appreciate people. Now, my first one was . . . what was it again? They tell me, but I keep forgetting. Maybe that's why this was my last chance. Anyway, thirdly, wait . . . I think I just said it. Jog my memory, please."

Ken made whimpering sounds.

"Ah, yes thanks. Now, you see," the 'angel' lay back leisurely in the chair, which didn't quite work in the small car but looked as such. "We have a very nice system up there, where I'm meaning you could probably guess. We get more than three chances, we get quite a lot by the way, but as it turns out, those chances aren't unlimited. I should know. Anyway, this was my last chance, and although I have certainly taught you some kind of lesson, they ain't gunna buy it upstairs. But, me oh my, they are gunna buy it 'downstairs'." Ken looked fearful.

"So, I've been thinking for quite some time that I wasn't quite suited for the wings, robe and halo business. You know, white isn't a good look for me. Makes me look fat. So, since I have nothing to lose except for the harp, I never liked playing it anyway, I decided for a quick 'career change'. Marlowe did great with it, well, before he was killed, I might meet him down there. Anyway, I'm digressing. They always are happy with new faces down there, particularly ones that are clean, so I'll just wish you well and be on my way." He started to fade.

"Gait! Gont go! Guy im orry!" Ken tried to grab him, but his fingers went through air.

"Sorry kid," Nike shook his head, eyes glittering dangerously. "Been nice . . . well, frankly it hasn't been nice knowing you, but I'm being politely. Hey, you never know, I might see you again sometime. Might be likely, where your likely headed. Toodles!"

"Go! Go, gleese gel ge!" he pleaded, tears streaking down his sticky face.

"Chow! Tchuss! Au revoir! Bon voyage! Pax Vobiscum! Till we meet again!" in the moments before he disappeared completely, a look of cruel glee twisted the angel's face. Then he vanished in a fragrant puff of smoke, a mix of lily, frangipani, and brimstone.

Remember Ken and please do not

Go buying too much you-know-what.

Thank you very much. The moral is that giving in to vices is not good for your health. Or it might be: When having an addiction to bubble-gum and an angel comes to help you, do not offend him if s/he has a bad temper and a record of failures.

Review, if you like.