The Adventures of Jameson Cooke
by rachael bargis
Based on The Adventures of Tom Bombadil by JRR Tolkien
To a friend, Jameson Cooke, class of 2002, and one of the strangest people I know. This is all true and actually happened.
Jameson Cooke is a curious fellow
Bright blue his book bag is and his car is golden yellow
Burgundy is his senior sweater and brown are his shoes
He could wear a blue bandanna if he so does choose
He lives in Upper Marlboro, where 301 passes by
Drives to school each day, under the morning sky
Jameson in lunchtime goes to the Media Center
Up in the balcony you will see him enter
Daily he is training his Neopet
Sitting in his chair surfing the Internet
There he sat hunched, with a cramp in back,
Up came Rachel, wanting to chat,
Carrying a book was she, and there he was playing
Sitting at the same computer where he is always staying
"Hey, Jameson Cooke! What's this you do?"
said Rachel. "For lunch I come to the library too.
Your game playing makes Mrs. DeStasio mad.
And for the rest of us that’s very bad."
“Sheesh, please go away! You are annoying!”
Said Jameson. “I don’t want to talk and sing.
Go downstairs, surf the Net where the light is shady
Far below the balcony books, little freshman lady!”
Back downstairs Rachel went with a sigh
And Jameson played on, letting the time pass by
On the hard chair he sat in the hot weather
Tis like he’s caught in a mental tether
Up came Mrs. DeStasio, without any warning
Catching Jameson late in the morning
He was trapped against the balcony rail
Without an escape or a backup tale
“Ha, Jameson Cooke, what you be a-thinking,
wasting time on the internet a-slinking?
Way up here in the library,
looking at pictures of anime, I see.”
“Don’t yell at me, Mrs. DeStasio.
I am doing nothing bad, so let me go!
If you leave than we’ll both have some rest
Go back downstairs to your checkout desk
Mrs. DeStasio let him loose, when she heard him speaking
Turned and went back down the stair, muttering and creaking.
But lo, fifth period was over at last,
And Jameson left for his next class.
Down the hall he went walking
Four minutes later, at next class he was talking
The teacher came in and he paid attention
Forty-three minutes passed by without mention
The bell rang again, the period was gone.
In the trinity center the air conditioning was on
Outside with sweat students were dripping
Into the cool classroom Jameson went skipping
In came Mrs. Shiloh, and her bosom ample
With her roller suitcase people she will trample
Writing on the board was Jameson and she caught him
Up to her desk then she brought him
“Jameson Cooke, what shall I do?
For now I must be yelling at you.
What must I do to make you obey?
Keep you here till the end of the day?”
“Now, Mrs. Shiloh, do you hear me talking?
You let me leave at once, I must soon be walking
Take me to the door and go away
In this class I cannot stay
Give it up and back to teaching go,
Like Rachel and Mrs. DeStasio.”
Then Mrs. Shiloh said, “I beg you pardon!
You may leave and rest in the garden.”
She turned away with her billowing dress
Jameson was able to go without mess
The sky was clear and in the spring-gloaming,
Jameson laughed as he came homing.
Unlocked the door and ate his supper
Around the porch light moths began to flutter
Dark came to Upper Marlboro. Jameson turned on a light;
Upstairs he turned his door-handle and had a fright.
“Jameson Cooke! Look what night has brought you!
I’m here behind the door, now at last I’ve caught you!
You’ve forgotten you sister sleeping in the room next door
Now I’ve trapped you, to settle a score.
I am ready to pounce, and under scissors I’ll take you.
Poor Jameson my brother, a crew cut I’ll make you!”
“Get out! Shut the door, and never come back after.
Take away your gleaming eyes, take your giggling laughter.
Go back to messy room; I say away from me go!
Go away back to your desk, like Mrs. DeStasio,
Like young Rachel and Mrs. Shiloh,
Go back to your room and sleep till tomorrow!
Out fled sister through the door leaping,
Down the hall, around the corner sweeping,
Into room wailing went back to bed
Sleeping still like she was dead
Then Jameson went to sleep
With a chenille blanket at his feet
Outside stars were gleaming bright
He slept quietly through the night
Jameson Cooke is a quick-walking fellow
Bright blue his book bag is and his car is golden yellow
None ever caught him in stair or hall
Walking across the courtyard, or leaning ‘gainst the wall.
He’ll sit on the steps with chopsticks eating
Fortune Cooky food, with his bokken for greeting.
