Assassination Classroom vol 1 back

"Let's write some free-verse poetry. I'd like you to end all your poems with the word 'tentacles'."

Thank god it's free verse, then. I'll have a go, shall I?

There's a man who read Lovecraft
From the young age of four.
He pops in our shop now and then.
He wears fingerless gloves,
Paws our books,
Furtive looks
Seem to indicate that whenever he comes across anything by I.N.J.Culbard he is utterly freaked out, writhing as he is in his mind's eye in a metaphorical sea of metadimensional tentacles.

Nope, I can't do it.

The first half is a limerick of sorts, the second is certainly prose. Outside of W.B. Yeats and Thomas Hardy, unless it's a song lyric I fucking hate poetry anyway. So poncy, just like me. Either that or it's some sort of cryptic crossword and I'm useless at them as well.

This is bananas.

A school class has been assigned by the Japanese government to a metamorphic worldwide threat who has already cleanly carved out seventy percent of the moon, rendering it forever crescent. No more werewolves, clearly. He's threatened to do the same to Earth unless his selected human pupils can successfully shaft him and he's willing to teach them how. Unfortunately he can move at Mach 20 and regenerate any lobbed-off limb just like that.

How will they ever succeed?!

Oh, they probably won't: this will go on forever and ever while Yusei Matsui rakes in merchandise royalties from our resident teacher who has been designed to have a spherical, grinning head complete with multiple expressions / colour schemes / patterns to denote various moods so that models can be made (and sold) with interchangeable -

KILL ME NOW!