Your blogger is back from a month-long vacation
Oh please, no need for a standing ovation!
Why, you may ask, is the blog post in rhyme?
Because today's show is none other than...Madeline!
As we all know, dear Madeline thrived in the ninteties.
...Her day-to-day life chronicled so fine-ties.
Oh goodness, poor Lorelai's struggling already
To keep up the rhyming pace nice and steady.
In her defence, it's but two in the morning
And she's killing time, but not to watch tomorrow's dawning.
The Boston Red Sox are live on TV
But it's hard when you live in Australia, you see.
Enough with this tangent, the subject I'm morphin'.
Let's get on with recapping this redheaded orphan.
In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines.
Lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.
The smallest one was Madeline.
She was the only one who wouldn't sit still
Much to the chagrin of poor Miss Clavel.
(By the way, why on earth do they all call her 'Miss'
When a nun should be Sister, or even just Sis?
My high school principal was a nun so I really should know
Considering how many times in her office my face I did show.)
At dinner Madeline pretends to choke on her bread
Because it's always so funny to pretend to be dead.
Perhaps it's foreshadowing what is to come
Since Madeline is headed for operating theatre number one.
The girls then brushs their teeth and go to bed
To prepare for another day of walking-in-two-straight-lines ahead.
(That shit can be very tiring, as truly
It takes far less effort to be bad and unruly.)
But as soon as Miss Clavel leaves for the night,
Madeline initiates a pillow fight.
God, she would be like the worst roommate ever.
You'd never get to sleep -- like seriously, never.
Madeline scares the girls with shadow puppets
And they all fall for it, the silly little muppets.
Chloe and Danielle are particlarly frightened,
and wow, I still remember their names -- how enlightened!
Madeline grabs a bedspring and begins to push it.
Apparently she is not done with tonight's round of bullshit.
None of the girls fall for it again, though
They believe they've outsmarted their redheaded foe.
The next day the girls go out for a walk around
To see what's going on in old Paris town.
(Remember how we're in Paris? Well, if you forget
There's a flag on the Eiffel Tower -- just like real life, I bet.)
Madeline does some more borderline attention-seeking crap.
Like she only really has personality compared to the other boring saps.
The girls are thoroughly amused by a clown
But when they see a robber they give him a frown.
Never mind that he's a fucking robber, and you'd think they would flee
I think we're seeing some of Miss Clavel's sadistic personality.
Suddenly it's snowing, though it wasn't before
Has time gone forward or something? I'm really not sure.
They pass by a soldier with some kind of war wound
And to cheer him they present him with their ballons.
I'm sure that made up for all the horror's he's seen
Like, "Screw PTSD; twelve balloons from preteens!"
Madeline runs rampant in the park the next day.
Poor Miss Clavel doesn't know what to say.
Apparently "stop fucking doing that," will not do.
Although come to think of it, that's probably not God-approved.
Miss Clavel actually has to carry her home.
I feel sorry for her walking partner, always alone.
In the kitchen, Madeline plays with some mice.
Nobody thinks to warn her about diseases or anything, they're just all, "How nice!"
Methinks Miss Clavel is hoping our little adventurer
Will end up with some sort of Parisian cholera.
Madeline decides to sing a ditty admitting
How her attempts to scare Miss Clavel aren't so unwitting.
Wow, Maddie dearest, you really are swell
Deliberately frightening poor Miss Clavel.
You'd think she'd show some respect to a freakin' nun
But every chance she takes, Maddie goes on the run.
Like I get that she's adventurous and spunky and brave
But she's sending her teacher to an early grave.
The next day on the girls' compulsory walk,
Madeline is feeling too unwell to talk
Too unwell to skip or jump or run or play
Why, she's just like all the other orphans today!
Everyone's all, "Gosh, Madeline, what the heck's happened to ya?
How are we all supposed to live vicariously through ya?
It's like you're in time-out, but of your own free will!"
Still, nobody thinks the young lass could be ill.
Madeline goes and spreads whatever vermin disease she has with the ducks.
Am I being too harsh? You can tell me, but I kind-of won't give a fuck.
(That rhyme was necessary; by poem laws I obided.
The second I saw the ducks, basically, was when I decided.)
At dinner Madeline doesn't eat her bread
She just gives it to the mice instead.
Surely that will only make the rodents spread.
And so it happens in the middle of the night
Miss Clavel gets her "feeling" that something isn't right.
Of course, why just say it and move right along
When you can immortalise it with a catchy song?
Miss Clavel adorns herself with her robes and her habit
Because whatever that "something" is, it can wait till she's dressed, dagnabbit!
(By the way, anybody remember the live-action movie?
Even young Lorelai didn't find that one too groovy.
My first experience of Frances McDormand; I hadn't seen Fargo.
Thanks to a mother-imposed grown-up movie embargo.)
She rushes into the girls room; Madeline's looking unwell.
Though I notice none of the girls thought to alert Miss Clavel.
Some doctor comes, and get this -- the dude rides a bike
I think a car would be more appropriate, but no, whatever you like.
He disangoses poor Maddie with a ruptured appendix
Then carries her away to the hospital, quick sticks!
Gosh, I hope his bike has some sort of basket
Or Madeline's journey home may be in a casket.
The girls think Madeline's dying; they're going through hell!
Don't correct them or anything, will you, Miss Clavel.
The next morning, Madeline ain't in her bed.
She's still at the hospital, or possibly dead.
Chloe starts crying for Maddie lost appendix.
Um...excuse me while I think of a way to casually bring up Jimi Hendrix.
(That wasn't it, I know.)
"But what's an appendix?" Danielle asks her peers
Nicole says it's a head thing -- that does not quell their fears.
Danielle is afraid that Madeline will return
With a hole in her head, but soon they all learn
That an appendix is...well, I don't know, something lame
And Madeline will soon be returning again.
Hopefully this excercise is not one in futility.
And someone finally diagnoses her ADHD.
In the hospital, Madeline is well on the mend.
Her appendix is gone, so the brat's back again.
It's a rather good thing Maddie's well and alive
Since without her the rest of the girls can't survive.
Like, seriously, you should see their daily routine
Without the assistance of their ginger queen.
They frown at the clown and smile at the robber
Did he...did he get away last time or something? Stupid copper.
But honestly, this goes beyond simple devotion
Without Madeline, they don't understand human emotion.
Dear Miss Clavel is positively brokenhearted
To discover her orphans are borderline retarded.
Back at home the girls brush their bread and break their teeth
Surely this is much more than the side effect of grief!
In the hospital, it seems our friend Madeline is bored
She harrasses the nurses, and they're all, "Good lord!
A girl who likes tigers and snowmen and mice!
From a girl so, so young -- why, this will not suffice!"
Ten scant days later, on a morning quite fine,
Miss Clavel tells the girls, "Let's visit Madeline!"
I kind-of love how they didn't visit her sooner
Specially considering they thought she had some kind of tumor.
The girls all hop aboard a minibus, and
Sing about the fun times they all once had
They're singing and dancing like Madeline's gone
To the great big Lourve in the sky, oh-hohn-hohn.
(Yes, I rhymed the French laugh, so believe all the hype
What a commitment I have to my French stereotypes!)
The girls stop on the way to buy Maddie a gift.
Hopefully to smooth out the "We kinda just left you in the hospital for a week and a half by yourself without so much as a visit" rift.
But when they arrive at the hospital, they
Were far more surprised than I can say.
It seemed at first like Santa had come, but rather,
She'd just gotten a shitload of toys from her deadbeet father.
Because nothing says, "Hey darling, please don't be sad,"
Like some store-bought love from an absentee dad.
The best gift of all, Madeline thought, by far,
Was given to her by the surgeons -- her scar!
She thinks that this scar makes her suddenly above it,
So naturally she has to make a production of it.
She sings, she dances, while her scar she's barin'.
Imagine how much fun she'll have with a cesarian!
The girl are impressed, and when they return home
They break out the markers and draw scars of their own.
One of the dafter girls draws herself a 'B'
Gah, I hope that ink's not on there permanently!
The girls go to bed and say their goodnights
As a ragged Miss Clavel turns out all the lights
Making sure they are sleeping, she closes the door
And that's all there is, there isn't any more.
Truly, you guys, this is just how it ends
With dear old scarred Madeline away from her friends
You'd think they'd have shown us her joyous return
I guess a little isolation's the only way she will learn
That she has an unhealthy need for attention
Her personality problems? Too many to mention.
I must end this blog post, before I go crazy.
Have I proven to you that I'm not all that lazy?
Though now that I've finally put pen to paper
I can see I'm appaling at this rhyming caper.
Like 'puppets' with 'muppets? What the hell was I thinking?
I can assure you in my absense I have not started drinking.
So see you all later, see you next time
Hopefully by then I will have stopped speaking in rhyme.
*Sighs* This is just...I'm sorry. Note to self: ignore any early-morning blogging urges from now on, and stick to the daylight hours.
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