jennifer hart

Evil Weevil


Mom says this Weevil is evil
but I’m not so sure.
This Weevil just seems hungry.
Hungrier than any Weevil I’ve seen before.
He tore holes in all the cereal
which caused a bit of a mess.
And, Mom had a fit when he ate through the slippers
Dad got her last Christmas.
The Weevil ate the dog’s treats.
Baxter did not thank him for that.
AND he ate all the bread in the bread box
till there was nothing left.
Not even enough for one sandwich!
We found him stuffing himself on a bag of potato chips
When Mom screamed, “I’ve had enough
of this Evil Weevil business!”
The Weevil paused for a moment – the bag over his head.
He was now the size of a small cat
because of how much he’d been fed.

I tried to reason with Mom.
I begged to save his life.
This Weevil wasn’t evil. 
He just needed to be trained up just right.
I could keep him as my pet.
I’d name him Kevin, Steve or Brett.
Oh! Can you imagine all the Weevil adventures! 
All the places we’d go together,
the tricks we could play,
the fun we would have,
the things we might eat, 
my guess...there’d be a lot of that.
Maybe I could teach him to speak,
write stories or sing songs.
We could have a magic act
or find a circus to join along.

And the...wait!

Stop! Those are MY PANCAKES!
No! Don’t!
This is crazy! 
He even ate the plate!


Mom was right.
This Weevil’s evil.
He had to go
It was almost too late. let's celebrate
by making more pancakes!



Text and Illustration copyright © 2018 Jennifer Hart. 

What's In A Scribble?


There’s a doodle
in my scribble.
I’m not sure how she got there?

There’s a scribble
in my doodle.
She’s got eyes, a mouth and hair.

I wish she could talk! 
What would she say?
Would she tell me a story?
A scribble story
about scribble things?

She might sing me a scribble song
and then I could try to sing along?
Or, maybe she’d do a scribble rap
that makes my feet tap tap tap?

She might braid her scribble hair
while reciting a scribble poem
that makes no scribble sense.
Unless you’re another scribble
or a doodle that dabbles in squiggles.
Come to think of it...
I guess if she could talk I wouldn’t understand. 
Because I haven’t learned enough scribblish
to know just what she meant.


Text and Illustration copyright © 2018 Jennifer Hart.