"What's wrong?", said Michael to his pal,
who looked quite out of sorts.

"If you get help, they'll stare and laugh.
I have no planned retorts."

"Remember how you got this way",
said Michael, quite perturbed.
"Just wait here while I go get help.
You will not be disturbed."

So Wilby stood there all alone
as tears began to form.
"Now I can see my own rear end,
I know that's not the norm!

"It's all my fault", he quietly said.
"It's all my fault for staring.
I promise if my head gets fixed
I'll be more kind and caring."

Soon a whole parade of Wickwacks
with Michael as their guide,
came marching to help Wilby
mend his neck and mend his pride.


"Well, look at him!", Chessie exclaimed,
her tag still on her hat.
"I never thought that staring
would turn Wilby into that!"