Who filled these nostrils with inharmonious,
Uneuphonious stones?
Who filled these nostrils with pillows?
Pillows and dusty, stuffy cushions.
Now there are rills
From my nostrils.
My nostrils have been walled off
With a wall of concrete.
Would that my head
Were carved from a large, cool mint.
I cannot breathe the spring breezes.
I cannot breathe.
The aroma of barbecue
Cannot enter the futuristic furniture of my nostrils!
Nasty bug,
Vacate my nose!
--Bluto Pippy, from Inter-Departmental Mail
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