Marian: 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.