I believe my love of punching things was born when I was about four and my dad bought me "Punch the Clown", whose sole purpose of existence was to be punched. You can see from the picture that I loved Punch! Even though my dad and uncle destroyed Punch by punching him one too many times, the short time I had with him is forever etched in my brain. Ever since then I have loved punching things, especially clowns. To this day it's not safe for me to go to a circus or be around Shriners, because I am overcome with an irresistible urge to punch clowns in their big red noses!
I don't remember ever kicking Punch, because his name was clearly not Kick the Clown. Which might explain why I am not as fond of kicking things as I am of punching them. Even all these years after Punch's tragic death, he still holds a special place in my heart. I dedicate this poem to him.
Weebles may wobble and not fall down
But no toy was as cool as Punch the Clown
He was a friend I cannot replace
Because he let me punch him in the face