I own a beauty parlor but I always get things wrong.
Last week I left a lady under the dryer far too long.
She was under the dryer for hours and it fried her brain.
They put her in a funny farm because I drove her insane.
When I dyed a woman's hair, it turned green.
I soon met her family and they are mean.
They made me eat shaving cream and it made me vomit.
Then they grabbed my underwear and gave me a wedgie that was atomic.
They kicked my scrawny ass and and broke my fingers so that I couldn't call the cops.
I think you'll agree that the time has come for me to sell my shop.
(This is a fictional poem.)