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his hips to his head…
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    So in spite of reluctance, confusion, and fear,
the thoughts in his head were surprisingly clear.
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    He planted his feet.
He started to rise.
He went to the stage,
and collected his prize…
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    Back at the hospital, Bortlebee lay,
musing about the events of the day.
    His mind was befuddled with thoughts of his son,
wishing and hoping that Morty had won.
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    So when Morty arrived, with a map in his hand,
charting the course to a faraway land,
old Bortlebee smiled. He instantly knew:
his incredible dream was incredibly true!
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    â€œWell,” Morty croaked, with a lump in his throat.
“They gave me this map, plus a cap and a coat.
It’s awful! I won! As you probably guessed.
So they’re sending me off on some sort of a quest.
But I’m not the right guy,” he fretfully said.
“I’m telling you, Pop, I’m in over my head!”
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    â€œDon’t be a scaredy-cat,” Bortlebee teased.
“Can’t you see that I’m happy? I’m terribly pleased!
Just do it for me and wipe off the frown.
Be happy! For once you’ll get out of this town.”
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    He looked at his son, and uttered a sigh.
It was time, he could see, for saying goodbye.
    â€œI hope,” he said slowly, “you have nothing but luck.
But remember: Whenever you’re stuck in the muck,
when the travels are rough and you’re stuck up a tree,
you remember this, Morty: You’ve always got me.”
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    â€œAw, Pop,” Morty grumbled. “I love ya, too.
And that’s why I’m going. I’ll do it for you.”
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    Then they hugged one another, especially tight,
and Morty set off, that very same night…

Chapter 6
    the gang of mccrook
    On the surfac above, in the world that you know, Katrina Katrell was a girl on the go. But where was she headed? She hadn’t a clue. She just had to keep going—it was all that she knew.
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    Yet a terrible rain was flooding the streets,
falling in thundering, merciless sheets.
Katrina was soaked. She was practically drowned,
but she had to escape. She couldn’t be found.
    For Mrs. Krabone was hot on her trail,
tracking her down, by tooth and by nail;
and with her that lunatic, Doctor LeFang,
who would mince up her mind into lemon meringue!
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    What she needed was shelter, some haven or place,
to escape from the chill and the rain and the chase.
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    It was then
that she spotted a place she could hide:
at the end of an alley, off to the side,
a hatch in the wall that might be a door,
or an entrance that wasn’t in use anymore.
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    On the wall near the hatch was a kind of sign.
It was hung on the brick with some raggedy twine.
The words on the placard were sloopy and wild,
as if scrawled by the hand of an ignorant child.
    Yet this was a sign that was meant to be read,
and these are the words that it messily said:

    The alley, however, was terribly dim;
the rain was so thick you could go for a swim;
the wind was a billowy, blustery gust,
and the placard was grubby and covered with rust.
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    So Katrina, of course, didn’t notice the sign.
She assumed that the doorway was perfectly fine.
    She splashed to the handle and waggled the latch,
and to her surprise…that opened the hatch.
Inside was a ladder, with rungs in a row,
a stairway of steps to a chamber below.
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    But the stairway was crooked, the ladder was cracked
(on the verge of collapse, as a matter of fact).
Descending the stairway, its pilasters shook,
they wobbled and quaked like a fish on a hook.
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    At the bottom, the walls were discolored and bare,
and shadows, like spirits, were haunting the air.
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    Looking around, Katrina could see:
a booth, where you once put a ticketing fee,
some rusty old tracks for an underground train,
and maps from the past to explain the terrain.
Seeing it all, she could fairly deduce:
This was a station…no longer in use.
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    At this point,