This is not funny. I need those keys for work.
First it was my bathroom key from the bookstore,
Now my office keys from my second job.
And I know you are taking them.
I am meticulous and precise about where
I leave my keys,
They are always in the same places.
I don’t care if you like them
Because they’re shiny, or pretty,
Or you think they’re made of silver and gold,
You’re being a pain in my neck,
So I expect
You to put them back where you found them,
Or else I’m getting out the meat mallet
To play Whack-a-Troll.
(and don’t bother trying to steal that either,
Otherwise I’ll just opt for the cleaver.)