Don’t ever dine with Frankenstein; he feasts on flaming turpentine. He chomps and chews on soles of shoes and quaffs down quarts of oily ooze. At suppertime he’ll slurp some slime. He’s known to gnaw on gristly grime. His meals of mud and crispy crud will curl your hair and chill your blood. His poison, pungent, putrid snacks may cause tu seizures and attacks. Your hair may turn completely white. tu may pass out o scream in fright. Your skin will crawl. Your throat will burn. Your eyes will bulge. Your guts will churn. Your teeth will clench. Your knees will shake. Your hands will sweat. Your brain will bake. You’ll cringe and cry. You’ll moan and whine. You’ll feel a chill run down your spine. You’ll lose your lunch. You’ll lose your head. So come... and dine with me instead.