Don't fuck this up. This a paid gig

A dumpy goat
Bit her finger
Like a baby carrot last night
She's sweating through the sheets
Like a bag of rotting meat
She's talking to the ghosts
Who gather at her feet
She's got
Salmonella!

We dialed the doctor but there's no reply
(Straight to voicemail)
The rumor on the street
Is he's cheating on his wife
With the locum tenens
And a guy who swallows knives
And looks like
Sal Mineo!

And her complexion is a curious shade of green
Brighter than a bunion
Paler than a peach
Darker than a dungeon
A ripe sardine
She's got
Salmonella!
(She is now)
Dead as a doornail!