A Tale of Tank, Steve, and Dylan

The stage was set, the screen was clear,
A contest where we conquered fear.
The video played, a silly sight:
A goose was typing in the daylight.
His homework waited, page half-done,
Beneath the cheerful, morning sun.

Then Steve began, with honk and tone,
A gander’s mutter, gasp, and groan.
He gave the goose a student’s stress,
With feathered fury, more or less.
“This essay due is such a bore!”
He honked and typed upon the floor.

But then a call! A voice so bright,
It was his friend, a welcome plight.
Dylan cried out, “Hey, leave the book!
Let’s go and skate, just take a look!”
With tempting words and cheerful glee,
He lured the goose from his degree.

They grabbed their boards and took a ride,
With Steve and Dylan side-by-side.
A reckless jump, a crashing sound,
A tumbling feathered heap on ground.
The goose was hurt, his wing was sore,
He couldn’t take much more.

Then entered Tank, a voice of care,
The calm and steady doctor there.
“I’ll fix you up,” I said with might,
And helped the wounded goose walk right.
We took him back to his abode,
To lighten his unhappy load.

But on the desk, a vacant space,
Where homework was, no single trace.
The screen was dark, the page was gone,
His work was lost, his hope undone.
And **Tank** declared, with solemn dread,
“The homework’s fled. Go back to bed.”

So Steve the goose, and Dylan’s call,
And Tank the doctor, gave our all.
We dubbed the chaos, crash, and pain,
The lost homework, the sun and rain.

And when the final line was spoke,
A wave of joy and laughter broke.
We didn’t care who won first place,
Just grins we saw on every face.
For in that booth, we three were one—
The dubbing battle had been “won”.

2