Philip, the Fix-it-Man

a Dr. Seuss rewrite for my husband's birthday

In the nearby county of Los-An-Gelos, 
Philip the fix-it-man lived in a house.
A nice little house. It was old. It was neat. 
The woodwork was solid. There was plenty to eat. 
His children had everything children might need
To get along comfortably, quite content indeed. 

They did… until thermo-dynamics’ law two, 
Decided the woodwork would be plagued with mildew. 
“Dry wrought”, said Phil, “upon all that I see!
How could this happen, oh, happen to me. 
The wood was all good the day that we bought it  
But now it’s gone bad & wouldn’t pass an audit. 

This house that I live in is too broken down.
 It ought to be better!” he said with a frown. 
“If I could mend it, how much greater it’d be! 
What a house! We’d be rulers of all that we see!” 
So Philip the fix-it-man, lifted his hand 
And Philip, the fit-it-man, gave a command. 

He ordered some Bondo delivered to his home 
And using some boards, he fixed up a mold. 
He carved out the dry wrought, so it wouldn’t come back 
And he mixed up his Bondo packed it in with a smack. 
And then Philip stood back. He sat down with a smile. 
What a wonderful fix he’d made, craftsman style! 

“All done!” Philip cried. “Oh, the things I’ve achieved! 
I’m the fixer of wood! And I’m the fixer of eaves! 
I’m the fixer of this house! And, what’s more, beyond that 
I’m the fixer of an 1917 habitat! 
I’m Philip the fix-it-man! I fix all that won’t work 
For I am the fixer of this house and I’m not a jerk!” 

But all through the morning, the children ran free
Shaking the house as much as could be
Until ‘long about noon, Phil heard a loud crash. 
“What’s that?” snapped Philip, and inside he dashed. 
And he saw, by the window, a pile of glass. 
Just a part of his home by son who looked up 
With remorse and said, “Beg your pardon, Fixer Philip. 
I was just throwing marbles ‘cross the room—it's easy!—
When one hit the window and now there’s a breezey!” 

“Foolish!” the Fixer named Philip moaned back. 
“I’m fixer, and you’ve unfixed my house with a whack.” 
You must be a fixer of things. Do you hear that?
Be the fixer of an 1917 habitat!
I’m Philip the fix-it-man! I fix all that won’t work 
For I fix this house without being a jerk!
My knowledge must grow,” his fix-it voice thundered, 
“To fix this bashed window from your marble blunder. 
I’ll learn how to do it!” he bellowed and brayed. 

And the children standing round in the house were afraid. 
They trembled. They shook. But they watched and they stayed. 
They saw their dad, Phil, repair windows by the dozens. 
Then he had taught them all about folly’s repercussions.
And all of them nodded their heads like they knew
And never would damage windows with something they threw.

Then Philip the fix-it-man admired his work, 
He could fix window-panes without being a jerk.
“All done!” Philip cried. “Oh, the things I’ve achieved! 
I’m the fixer of wood! And I’m the fixer of eaves! 
I’m the fixer of windows! And, what’s more, beyond that 
I’m the fixer of an 1917 habitat! 
I’m Philip the fix-it-man! I fix all that won’t work 
For I am the fixer of this house and I’m not a jerk!” 

Then again came a noise from within the house walls, 
A squeak from some rodents and creatures that crawl. 
“Fix-it Philip, please… We don’t like to complain, 
But all that fixing puts us in great pain. 
We know, in that house, you fix with all your might, 
But in here in your walls, we, too, should have rights. 
We rodents can’t stand it. Our pups need some peace! 
Your repairs are too loud. We wish you would cease!” 

“Hush up, you squeakers!” howled the humble Fixer Phil. 
“You’ve no right to live here. I’ll fix you to kill.
I fix the boards! And twenty windows in this house! 
And I’ll fix you for sure, oh you little mouse!” 
And after setting traps, the rodents saw with surprise 
That their cousins and brothers never would rise. 
Fixer Philip planned, plotted, and carried out their demise. 

“Take that!” snorted Philip. “Now you’ll say not a thing 
To stop my fixing this house for I am it’s king. 
I shall fix all the windows! The woodwork and still! 
I’ll fix broken tables! I can and I will!
I’ll repair the dryer. I’ll fix until heaven! 
I’ll fix 'til I’m five thousand, six hundred and seven!” 

But, as Philip, the Fix-it-Man, lifted his hand 
And started to order and give the command, 
The paint on that house, it began to flake, 
And the fans in the bathroom started to break. 
Philip decided he’d fixed quite enough. And he had. 
That is why that fixer, Philip, got a little bit mad. 
Philip the fix-it-man did a plain little thing. 
He called up a handyman with his own tools to bring
To fix stuff that broke in that house with kids three
Fix what he couldn’t for they’d less work than he.

And Philip the fixer-man, who was so achieved, 
A fixer of wood! And a fixer of eaves! 
A fixer of windows! And, what’s more, beyond that 
He fixed all that broke in that 1917 habitat! 
Yes, Philip the fixer in Los-An-Gelos, 
Decided to delegate the care of his house
And today the great Philip, that fixer who works, 
Is teaching three kids how to not be a jerk.