Oh heavens, as slow as molasses in January, this creature lounges like a granny on a Sunday afternoon. Moving along with the leisure of a noon shadow, it teaches patience like a warm hug from yesteryears.

Go out and touch the first five Last six are Stranger Things sheriff, still alive All together it's an insect green Or a cocktail made with menthe de creme

Pull my hair but not in spite, it’s how I’ll finally see the light.

Marine biologists have discovered it takes this many tickles to make an octopus laugh

I wore another's smile, borrowed another's bed, and waited for innocence to knock upon the door. Who am I?