An ANTELOPE ate my CANTALOUPE, and now he's really low. That melon was rotten the day I bought it—at least three weeks ago.
A CONDOR ate my LAWNMOWER, and now he's in a funk. I'd have told him (if he'd only asked) the lawnmower's a piece of junk.
An AMOEBA ate my PLACEBO, so he's actually quite well, but just the thought of what that placebo was has set him to mull and to dwell.
A YAK ate my TACK, and now he's not so jaunty; that tack is extremely sharp, and unusually pointy.
A CAMEL drank my ENAMEL, and now he's very gruff; his demeanor has sunk, his mood has darkened, yet his fur's got a shiny new buff.
A WOLVERINE drank my OVALTINE, and then he left for Moscow, leaving me here to scrape out what's left of a ten-ounce jar of Bosco.
A TREE FROG ate my MEE KROB, and now he's out of order; a spicy dish from Thailand, mee krob makes you beg for water.
A MARMOSET ate my MAH JONGG SET, and now he's feeling queasy, the worst he's felt since late last year (when he ate my game of Parcheesi).
A CLAM ate my SPAM, and now he's closed for business. He should have known the ingredients in Spam can cause severe headaches and dizziness.
A BABOON ate my BASSOON, and now he's got the droops, even though he can hit notes lower than some notable doo wop groups.
An IBEX ate my TIMEX, and now he's taking a licking—the only way to know he's here is to listen for the ticking.
An OSTRICH ate my SANDWICH, which is no way to treat your host, but wait'll I get my hands on him—he'll be an ostrich-lettuce-and-tomato on toast.
A WEASEL ate my EASEL, and now he's feeling faint, but it's not the easel that's making him sick, it's drinking all that paint.
A WILDEBEEST ate my THANKSGIVING FEAST, and now he's justly dyspeptic; that lousy no-good neo-gnu didn't save me a single drumstick.
A LLAMA ate my DRAMA, so his mood is far from ecstatic. Digesting that tome will keep him at home, but let's not get too melodramatic.
A STORK ate my FORK, and now he's somewhat mental. A stork should stick to jellyfish, and avoid all utensils.
A PORCUPINE drank my TURPENTINE, and now he's quite cantankerous, for turpentine can make you whine, and scratch—and get a little anxious.
A COUGAR ate my SUGAR, he thought it was a treat, but wait'll he sees his dental bill, it'll knock him off his feet.
A TRICERATOPS ate my LOLLIPOPS, and now I'm really mopin'; I'd wrapped those pops and put 'em in a box—but stupidly left it open!
An ALBATROSS ate my DENTAL FLOSS, and now I sense the gravity of what happens if one doesn't floss—what happens?—one gets a cavity.
A MACAQUE ate my PLAQUE, and now he's quite laconic—I'd received that plaque for rescuing a macaque, a fact I find ironic.
An ELECTRIC EEL ate my ECLECTIC MEAL, and now he's only fair; if I didn't feel some sympathy I'd send him to the electric chair.
An ALLIGATOR ate my CALCULATOR, and now he's the butt of derision, but don't sell him short, this croc of a sort is able to do long division.
A MINK drank my DRINK, and now he's not so mellow; that drink I think was not a drink I'd drink if I were a thinking fellow.
A WART HOG drank my EGG NOG, and says he's unaffected, but later the rum will hit him like a drum, and boy will his mood reflect it.
A SLUG drank from my JUG, now watch him pay the price, 'cause that jug was filled with grease and sludge and—"Hey, not bad!" says the slug.
A GOPHER ate my LOAFER, and now his outlook's bleaker, but I don't care, it serves him right—just keep him away from my sneaker.
A MANATEE ate my CANAPE, and now he's under the weather; that awful hors d'oeuvre made him so weak you could knock him out with a feather.
A TOUCAN ate my GLUE CAN, and now he feels the shame, 'cause a glue can can teach a toucan that two can play at that game.
A PUFFIN ate my MUFFIN, and now he's paranoid; he knows that muffin was the last one I had, so I'm someone to avoid.
A BOAR ate my FLOOR, and now he's in the basement, his stomach home to a permanent linoleum emplacement.
A GIBBON ate my BLUE RIBBON, and now he's back at the zoo. He should replace the blue ribbon, I'd had it for years, it's the least that thieving gibbon could do.
A SKUNK ate my GUNK, and now he's twice as smelly. I'm not even sure what that gooey glop was that the skunk put in his belly.
A PACHYDERM ate my SACK OF WORMS, and now he's inclined to grieve; it'll take him several weeks, I suspect, to recover his joie de vivre.
A SALMON ate my ALMOND, and now he's in a rut—I warned him what can happen if you eat such a large nut.
A PLATYPUS ate my CACTUS, and now he's turned morose, 'cause a cactus is a sharp, sharp plant—it'll fill you full of holes.
A JACKAL ate my SPACKLE, and now it's not so funny; to get that noxious spackle out will cost him lots of money.
An ANTEATER ate my AUNT PETER, and now he's confused as all heck, but not as confused as Aunt Peter, who was several cards short of a deck.
An AXOLOTL ate my HOT WATER BOTTLE, and now he's one sorry lizard, waddling around, so close to the ground, dragging his inflated gizzard.
A BROWN-AND-WHITE PONY ate my RICE-A-RONI, and now he's dragging his feet—seems MSG is the main ingredient in "The San Francisco Treat."
An OX ate my SOCKS, and now he's got the blues, not because he ate my socks, but because he forgot my shoes.
A KINKAJOU ate my JUJUBES, and now he's not so groovy (You can bet that'll be the last time I take that kinkajou to a movie!).
An AARDVARK ate my ARTWORK, now he's suffering from colic—and in case you were wondering, he ate: One Picasso, two Dalis, and one Jackson Pollock.
A PIG ate my WIG, and now he's really achin'—I warned him: I better not see that wig show up in my morning bacon!
A WREN ate my PEN, and now he's on the blink, not an unlikely consequence of consuming all that ink.
A HYENA ate my WHEATENA, and now he's lost all decorum—the cereal's loaded with sugar, you see, which converts to high energy for him.
A LEMUR ate my CREAMER, and now I'm really smartin'—I've got guests coming for tea—I'll have to serve them from the carton!
A CHIMP ate my SHRIMP, and now he's got guilty pangs, for the chimp promised to share it—with his friend, an orangutan.
A SHREW ate my GLUE, and now he's a total waste—if that shrew really knew he would know that it's true—that glue's a bit stronger than paste.
A NEWT ate my FLUTE, and now he's filled with woe; he'd have been better off if he'd been less ambitious, and eaten the piccolo.
An OLD COOT ate my OLD SUIT, and now he's deservedly gloomy—while the suit I borrowed from my brother-in-law is new, and stylish, and quite roomy.