A Smack in the Face May Offend

We had enjoyed an eventful stay in Ireland, with one of our number having a close encounter with a Banjshee, and we were just one stop from Michigan on our cycle journey home. We had pulled the 5 different wheeled, three saddled quintracycle off the road and were preparing to sleep under the stars. The encounter with the Banjshee had left our smallest member with a bit of a singing problem.

♫ I'm the man of a thousand faces ♫

"Why have you got a black eye?” I asked looking at Roth's badly bruised face.

♫ A little piece of me in every part I take ♫

"You know we've been using duct tape to, err, muffle the singing during the night?” Roth replied with a question.

♫ I hold the tape for a thousand races ♫

"Seems rude but, well, damn, what else are we supposed to do?” This question to a question thing was getting habit forming.

♫ A different point of view in every speech I make ♫

Roth held up the empty reel of tape. "Ran out of tape. I used WD40 instead.”

♫ Cut me a piece of my divided soul ♫

"Ouch!”