To the Guilty

Seven in the morning, people are running about
To wake me it takes less then one high shout
From the frenzied sibling who has just spotted
IT crawling under the pile of papers just sorted.

Enter Father, with spray in hand: "Where is it?"
"Hurry, do, for you're going to be late!" HIT!
The new spray that should kill within a second
Is taking much longer to find than we'd reckoned.

"Oh no Sir, I was late to University, not of my doing,
But due to the untimely and unexpected arriving
Of IT!" And then it seems to Sir that without fail,
IT's appearance is after two days' notice by mail.

Exeunt IT, and with it all order. With papers flying
And all sanity flying with them, Father with fervour
Roots out IT from the depths of last year's articles
Enter Mother, Broom in hand:"For the little particles!"

As I groggily drag myself out the room three voices
Warn me not to step on IT, [that's one of my choices
When I've just gotten up and don't really care
About what's on the ground or what's in my hair.]

Within minutes, everyone's left, for Uni, for work
With instructions not to waste time or to shirk
Which muddle me even more, so I'm confused
About IT being lost late hungry and ill-used.

After a bath my face is the epitome of rue
As I find there's not just one of IT but two!
Sighing I observe them with hardly a thrill
One's dead but the other is wobbling still.

As I delicately sweep the soul-departed shell away,
I realise with disgust the other's headed my way!
Or rather, to my own unkempt wild room
With nooks and crannies reached by no broom.

Barricading the doorway with this handy tool
I distract the stumbling creature under the stool
But IT collapses, i think it's had enough
I admit, in my cluttered house, life's tough

For a being such as IT, which has fallen on it's back
And flounders, trying to upright itself without knack
For the poor thing is dazed from previous contact
With the spray mentioned at the start of this act.

I wait, hoping IT will pass away of it's own accord
But this one's a fighter, and time loss I can't afford.
Bracing my wits and hoping there won't be a fray,
I pluck up my courage and pick up the spray.