For those who refuse to read comics, despising them as a far-from-art form of expression, I have taken the time to make a poem version of the 'Bob the face-kicker' image.

Across the roof I saw a man
Who wanted someone dead.
A rifle resting in his hand,
A gas mask covering his head.
Far below us laid the ground
And far above us hovered space.
In a single movement I spun around
And planted a boot in his face.