Bath Night Delight

As I poured in some Bubble Bliss
There occurred a tiny mishap.
I slipped and tipped the whole bottle
Under the fast-flowing tap.
As I watched the froth
It bubbled and grew.
I wonder, I thought,
Then added shampoo.
Foam rose to the rim
And spilled to the floor,
It didn’t stop there,
It raced out of the door.
I chucked in Mum’s soap
While the water still gushed
And off down the stairs
Great white torrents rushed.
I heard my Mum shriek,
‘Will you turn off that tap -
Your foam’s fired Whiskers
Out through his flap!’
As my soap canon sprayed
Our street near and far
I heard my dad laugh,
‘Saves washing the car.’
I peered through the window.
The road glistened white.
All the neighbours were out,
Throwing foam with delight.
Except my headteacher,
From house number nine,
(Which, sadly for me,
Is opposite mine).
He lay flat on his back,
Soaked through to his vest,
Quite dazed and confused,
With my cat on his chest.
‘No warning at all,’ he muttered,
‘The weather map didn’t show,
Plummeting soggy moggies,
In blizzards of rose-scented snow.
Conditions are catastrophic!
And this means, to my great sorrow,
I must announce to all that
School is closed tomorrow.’