A winter's poem, just for you.

Rub a dub dub, a boy in the shower (not tub).
He sat on the drain,
The water grew high.
Never so fast did we see his dad fly,
Up the stairs to the shower at hand,
On the wet floor his father did land.

Out of the shower a bit too late,
Look up at the ceiling and you've seen our fate.

The rub a dub boy, lucky is he...
To run around and remain free.
All the water going down took mad skills,
and prompts his lovely parents to go buy more Killz.

Happy Holidays! Boy up for auction.... soon... LOL.