A get well poem for poor darling Anthony, who is suffering from Blowfish Disease. Or so I perceive.
You could star on "Finding Nemo" with your puffy swollen face,
As one of those crazy blowfish that swims around the place.
Under you skin, writhing away, there are the eggs of worms!
Please don't touch me, you dirty Italian, I don't want your germs!
An urban legend you will be with your rare and itchy disease,
So don't come near within a seventy-mile radius please.
I know that you are feeling rotten, and I am being rude,
But it is just HI-larious when you Dad stuffs you with food.
He comes every ten minutes on the dot with Tylenol for you
You will have an overdose and die in the shower with your shampoo.
If you die I will be sad and come to your funeral
Wearing crazy short shorts because you requested so.
I promise not to laugh too much as I know how you feel
Because I had a bad sunburn once and everyone laughed as I peeled.
You shouldn't worry too much, you shouldn't fret or cry!
You probably just have a terrible disease, and soon you are going to DIE!
Get Well Soon, Anthony!!!