Homework Stew

I cooked my math book in a broth and stirred it to a steaming froth. I threw in papers—pencils, too— to make a pot of homework stew. I turned the flame up nice and hot and tossed my binder in the pot. I sprinkled in my book report with colored markers by the quart. Despite its putrid, noxious gas, I proudly took my stew to class. And though the smell was so grotesque, I set it on my teacher's desk. My teacher said, 'You're quite a chef. But still you're going to get an F. I didn't ask for ‘homework stew,' I said, ‘Tomorrow, homework's due.''