At night when I am tucked in bed
I keep a flashlight near my head.
"And why is that?" I hear you ask.
It serves a purpose, an important task.
There are bad, bad boys who come out at night.
But they're afraid of my mini mag flashlight.

They wait until I'm sound asleep,
then into my room they sneakily creep!
All night long they plunder the shelves
Of toys like impish naughty elves.
And when they spot my favorite truck,
those bad, bad boys just run amok.

They drive around my house without
A care of toys left strewn about.
"It wasn't me"" I begin to stutter,
when I get blamed for all the clutter
Left in the halls and on the stairs.
"But it has to be," my mom declares.

How can I escape this awful mess
When she just wants me to confess
To a crime that isn't mine?
And here is when I start to whine.
But I don't lie, I say what's true,
at least, that's what I try to do.

I hang my head and start to cry.
What I really need is an alibi.
But who'll believe ME,I'm just a kid?
When I say "Those bad boys must have hid
After they played with all my toys!
They're so quiet, not a single noise."

I DON'T LIKE THOSE BAD, BAD BEDTIME BOYS!

As it turns out, I take the blame
And vow to beat them at their own game.
I need to catch them in the act,
so with myself I make a pact.
I will solve this mystery,
and my bad "rep" will be history.

A caffeine soda I will take
To drink tonight, and sleep I'll fake:
so starts the ritual of the mini mag flashlight.
I'm gonna give those boys a fight!
Should I awake and turn it on,
my trusty tool will send them yon.

Time after time, as I try my plan,
sleep overtakes me though I empty the can.
Once in the night I awoke with a jump
And struggled to name what caused the bump
That interrupted my slumber and dreams.
Then I clicked on my light and it seems..

They'd been at it again, those nasty guys.
What I saw was a mess before my eyes,
and nary a boy dared show his face.
Those bad, bad boys are a real disgrace.
I cleaned up before Mom looked in,
hopped into bed and tried to pretend...

Nothing's the matter, nothing's amiss.
She tiptoed in, sighed, and gave me a kiss.
All was right again with the world.
But sleep was unkind, and my toenails curled.
For into my slumber a new thought appears.
Could it be? Is it true? In my dreams I'm in tears.

Am I the culprit? Am I the one
Who causes the chaos and has all the fun?
"This can't be," my lips try to speak.
"Impossible! I don't SLEEPWALK!" I shriek.
Next morning I look, fingers spread o'er my eyes.
The mini mag worked. Is that a surprise?

Everything is in order. No toys on the floor.
Dare I look any further? No trucks block the door.
Bookshelves are tidy, the hallway is clean.
So I'm not the sleepwalker? Just had a weird dream?
Or am I the hero who makes the world right?
With infinite courage and my mini mag flashlight!