It started as a joke,
a dare between young mates.
You knock on the door and run,
she will have to step out of the shower,
and our cameras will be ready to click away.
Knock and run, we will take the pictures.

Willy was a skinny kid,
a wimp (as his peers called him).
He will never do it,
Chicken was his middle name.

“Today is the day” Willy thought,
charging for the door, heart pounding.
He reached it, thump thump his heart raced,
but Wimpy Willy was fed up.

He rang the brown door, turned to run south,
his right foot on his left shoelace.
Willy had no way of knowing,
he wanted to prove a point.

Now Chicken Willy is screaming in pain,
broken leg, bruised arm,
banged head, bruised ego.
“Book him in”, says the nurse.
Look at Willy,
banged and bruised but chicken no more.