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Son of a
bitch! |
What be the
matter? |
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The goddamn
crapper's backed up! |
Hark! Again? |
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How the hell
am I supposed
to let loose if there's already a
bowl-clogging chunk
of chunder
stuck in the pipes? |
Lo, I did not
know
we had indoor plumbing. |
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This is just
great. I've got the
Jackie Chan of fecal logs
sitting in my intestines, and
I can't do anything about it. |
How be it that we
have but
one bowl of flushing for
an entire castle? |
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|
My abdomen
doesn't really
care about that reasoning.
It does, however,
want to
break the silence. |
I doth not know
what to tell ye!
Perhaps
ye should air thine
grievances
with... with --
(gag) |
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Holy
(gag)
Christ! What doth
be
(cough) that putrid stench?! |
|
I've just aired
something, alright.
It's not a grievance. Come to think of it,
it has nothing to do with air, and
everything
to do with saucy sphincter-cut chunks. |
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|
've somehow
scored myself an unusually apt headache of epic proportions.
Therefore, there is no news today.