SKEITH DAY SPECIAL

The Ravenous Skeith
By Jaimystique

My big, beautiful Skeith beneath my table sits
And begs for chocolate cream biscuit bits.
Then eats the napkin off my lap
And follows up with a good, long nap.

She loves me so and gives me joy
Even as she swallows my purple Poogle toy.
She's strong and plump, and in battle gives her all
As she chows down on her weaponry--
Mmm... wet snowball!

My Skeith waddles beside me
On every Faerie Quest
And hardly takes a break, even to digest
The items I have just struggled to obtain
To give her a level, and not a weight, gain.

She's hungry for knowledge... that is clear
As she chews on every book she's ever near.
At night I dream of her lovingly,
Despite all she eats
Then awaken to find she's devoured my sheets.

All munched up are my house and my little shop.
All gone are my stamps... oh, when will it stop?
She's eaten my Neodeck and eaten my stocks.
Thank goodness for the Safety Deposit Box!

I love my Skeith, despite her appetite.
She's my lazy, plump sweetie
With a cute underbite!

Mr. Bad Reputation
By Indietoast

Behold the Skeith with jaw of steel,
He eyes you up for his next meal,
And gives his tail a lazy flick.
If you're going to run, best make it quick,
Before that lumbering body gets into gear.

Your heart is pounding, legs are numb,
And frozen stiff you cannot run!
As he approaches heavy pawed,
You're sure your fate is to be gnawed,
By the creature getting near.

You feel hot breath against your hand,
A wet tongue slithers gently and,
You're sure you haven't felt a tooth?
You open your eyes to discover the truth,
It's just a friendly lick!

Cautiously you kneel to pat his head,
The Skeith rolls belly up, plays dead,
And quite enjoys a tickled tum.
There emanates a rolling hum,
As he purrs himself to sleep.

Lament of the Plushie Skeith
By Rayinte

Stuffing Skeiths is terribly cruel...
When that stuffing is just fluff.
I once followed the Skeithly Rule,
But no more; I have it tough.

My reputation has slipped away,
Following the road my hunger took.
They do not fear the words I say,
And fail to quail at my fearsome look.

I must fend for myself alone,
And finish my chores without aid.
I find myself torn when I must be sewn;
My new seamstress is a rough old maid.

Oh, do not stuff your Skeiths with wool!
(Though wool is somewhat better than grass.)
Feed them pie or Petpets or even gruel,
But it is too late for me, alas.

Lament with one no longer angry;
Forever stuffed, and always hungry.

King Skarl
By Cago

King Skarl is a Skeith, a fat one at that
He will not be seen without his gold hat,
Or rather, the crown of majestic gold
Whatever it is, it's frankly quite old

He sits on his throne from dawn until dusk
Watching over Meridell and all its ruckus
But when the sun falls from the Neopian sky
He's tucked up in bed, dreaming of pie

Whether chicken or asparagus,
It's always a winner
No wonder that's what
He always has for his dinner!
He rolls over drooling at the mere delight
Because he will have pork tomorrow night

But then comes the day
And he's all sleek and shine
To stare over Meridell, the land that's devine
So lucky for him. He's better than the rest
Oh King Skarl, you're one of the best

But his face is unclean
His beard needs trimmed
His face needs filled
With a gleaming white grin

But no, not from Skarl
The King of the Land
His face always grumpy
And inside, he's sad

For even though he has the jewels of the land
And can throw someone out
With a point of his hand
King Skarl is lonely, his friends long gone
And his kingdom is peaceful, his duty is done

He curls up to rest, tomorrow the same
His same tedious job, that's frankly quite lame
For even though he is the king of this land
He wants something he can't demand

And that is, a friend