Whosever room this is should be ashamed! His underwear is hanging on the lamp. His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair, And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp. His workbook is wedged in the window, His sweater’s been thrown on the floor. His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV, And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door. His books are all jammed in the closet, His vest has been left in the hall. A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed, And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall. Whosever room this is should be ashamed! Donald or Robert or Willie or— Huh? You say it’s mine? Oh, dear, I knew it looked familiar! (Shel Silverstein)
An elderly man called Keith. Mislaid his set of false teeth. They'd been laid on a chair. He'd forgot they were there. Sat down, and was bitten beneath.
The theoretic turtle started out to see the toad; He came to a stop at a liberty-pole in the middle of the road. “Now how, in the name of the spouting whale,” the indignant turtle cried, “Can I climb this perpendicular cliff, and get on the other side? If I only could make a big balloon, I’d lightly over it fly; Or a very long ladder might reach the top, though it does look fearfully high. If a beaver were in my place, he’d gnaw a passage through with his teeth; I can’t do that, but I can dig a tunnel and pass beneath.” He was digging his tunnel, with might and main, when a dog looked down at the hole. “The easiest way, my friend,” said he, “is to walk around the pole.”