"Rifling through a Kitchen Drawer"

Rifling through the kitchen drawer, hunting for a fork,
I met a man, a chair by trade, learning how to talk.
He looked at me with puzzled ears, pondering a thought
But held his tongue between his knees, seeming quite distraught.
I asked him what the matter was, hoping to assist
He pursed his shoulders, shrugged his lips, and gave my nose a twist.
Scared, I hid behind myself, and stopped to have a think
The little man crept up on me and pushed me in the sink.
I flapped my arms and waved my teeth, attempting hard to fly,
But since by now I'd hit the floor, I wasn't too sure why.
But as the sink was not too deep, I leapt high in the air,
And fell straight down the plughole, which didn't seem quite fair.

This was an unintentional doodle. I was trying to write "A Fish With No Gills" and had become stuck after the first verse. While thinking, I idly scribbled this down.

There is no real title as yet. I've only called it this because I really don't want "Fork Odd's Sake"...