Okay, people, time for our next installment of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge. For anyone who hasn’t been following — FOR WHAT REASON I CAN’T IMAGINE — I’ve been commemorating National Poetry Month by inviting my LOYAL READERS AND MINIONS to send in their own forays into poetic not-quite-Garroshity-but-hey-at-least-they-tried. Every week at this time I’ll be choosing a reader submission to post and acknowledge, then answer with my own EPIC VERSE MASTERPIECE inspired in some way by my featured guest poem.

As it turns out, I got a TON of submissions this week, so let’s have a look at today’s selection. This one comes from someone who identifies herself only as “Disgruntled Bad Hair Day Blood Elf.” Which, I mean, do whatever you want about THAT combination of terms. The jokes nearly write themselves. While you soak in the yuk-yuks, though, here, have a look at what the blood elf in question has for us…

Hey Garrosh, Great Warchief
I’d like to be witty
But you promised me hairstyles
In Silvermoon City

We ride through the town
Looking high and low
But for a Varian hairpiece
There’s no where to go!

No Goblin coiffeur
No shampoo and set
No wavy perms, hairpins,
We’ve got nothing yet!

So here’s a reminder
With my poetry ditty
Cause me and the boys well…
We want to look PRETTY!!!

Not bad, all considered, and plus, you know, there’s a sentiment you would never, ever expect to see coming from a blood elf, right? So, speaking of which, time for my contribution, where I pick right up on that very point. Here we go…

Well look at that, look at that,
Wonder sustaining,
That rarest of sights:
It’s a blood elf complaining.

Listen, Disgruntled,
I hate to sound hateful,
But you goddamn blood elves
Are awfully ungrateful.

Day after day I’m here
Busting my ass,
But what thanks do you give me?
More griping and sass.

I have to admit —
Call the Argent Confessor —
My mind’s blown that blood elves
Can’t find a hairdresser.

It’s Silvermoon! Don’t you
Have gel by the jarful?
I’d figure you’ve got more
Salons there than Starbulls.

But cool down your jets, kid,
And calm your frustration;
I think your dear Warchief’s
Got your explanation.

You can’t find a stylist?
No free barber shop?
Well, as with most problems,
It starts at the top.

That Regent Lord guy of yours —
You know, What’s-His-Name —
I’ll bet you good money
That fucker’s to blame.

You can’t get your hair done
While salons are closed?
I bet he’s got them busy;
That’s why you’re all hosed.

Just check out the pansy-ass
’Do on that guy;
He can’t maintain that solo —
Much less with one eye.

That’s why your vain hunt’s
Yielding hardly a trace:
He needs teams round the clock
To keep that shit in place.

So go bitch to him, okay?
Go make his head spin.
Go bother someone with
Hair you can get in.

Don’t bug me with hair nonsense;
Hell, mine’s deplete —
You know grass doesn’t grow
On a damn busy street.

EPIC VERSE!

That does it for this time. Considering how many submissions I got this week, though, don’t be surprised if I treat you to a bonus installment sometime soon. As for those of you who HAVEN’T sent in your own composition… WHY THE HELL NOT?! Get off your lazy ass and get to it!