Children come from all around. Pin worm infestation is defiantly bound. In a tight little warm room like Jews. Their breaths fill the room like a toxic spew. The victims are none but one, me. Vicious bugs they have no pity. 15 out of 35 have the itching curse. It can make you scratch till the day you ride in a hurse. As deadly as children with guns. I will get it just like the nun. If I get pin worms I’ll hunt the carrier down. If you know him say goodbye, because he’ll never be found. And cake . . .