"…what is it?"
"I…I don't know."
"Well...we can't just leave it here."
"Should we tell someone about it?"
"No, I think that might cause a panic."
"Should we keep it?"
"No, what if mom found it? She would freak."
"Well, should we bury it?"
"That seems a bit…suspicious, doesn't it?"
"Well, at least no one else would find it."
"…maybe we should just leave it here. And act like we never found it."
"That would be the easy way out of this."
"Ok…it's settled then. We better go inside. Let's not mention this…ever."
"Can I tell Bobby? He loves stuff like this, one time he-"
"NO. Just, no. Bobby will tell everyone. Come on, let's go."
"Hey, Sam? I can't stop thinking about it."
"…should we go get it?"
Monday - the mighty master of miserable,
Murderer of merriment,
A mundane masquerade.
Maniacally making moods mount, with
Mouthy mumbles multiplying by midday
Mourning the magically mellow moments.
Maybe more mocha can motivate, or
Medicate the migraine, or
Maybe, by a marvelous miracle,
The moon may migrate over mountains,
A magnet to meet the milky mirage,
So the masses may meander home, and
Melt into the merciful mattress 'til morning.