The sad tale of a Very Wet Phone

I’m here today to tell you a Very Sad Tale.
It is a tale of a Very Wet Phone.
It would be sad if it weren’t so funny.
So get ready to laugh as I drone.

I awoke last Saturday morning
ready to Race for the Cure™.
I looked and looked for my cell phone
It was nowhere to be found, troche that’s for sure.

I thought long and hard where I’d had it.
I looked on the living room floor.
We had gone swimming on Friday evening,
so I sat and thought long, hard, and more.

The phone wasn’t in or by the pool.
It hadn’t been turned in either.
It wasn’t in the grass, nor
by the sidewalk neither.

Saturday turned into Sunday.
I still didn’t know where to look.
Then it was Monday,
and I searched every nannie and crook.

I called up the provider, T-Mobile.
The phone, it hadn’t been used.
I supposed that it hadn’t been stolen,
“It must be at home,” I mused.

Finally I searched in the bathroom.
My swim trunks were still hanging, now dry.
Inside the pocket, I found it.
But my Very Wet Phone was fried.

I tried to charge it, but it failed.
The rust marks inside looked awful.
There was corrosion and junk on the battery.
Yet still, my story was about to get more stressful.

See, all the data on the phone was lost.
If I had your number, I don’t anymore.
If you want me to call you again, send be your info.
In my new phone’s memory, I’ll put it in store.


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