Cheese Tumour

Wolfgang’s word: Punch.

Marian’s question: Where upon your head would you choose to grow a tasty cheese tumor if you were given the (forced) opportunity to grow such a thing? (If you don’t grow one, you will be tazed for 46 days.)

I wish to punch that bitch—that witch—
Who cursed me with a cheese tumour
Around about the area which, I itch.
’Twas once my noble balding pate.
Don’t look at me, I’m shy now. Try
Now, look away. I hide my
Yellow skin and greasy eyes.
I smell delicious. I want to die.