And on that day, the female of the species shall breathe a sigh of relief as she fills her lungs with sweet-smelling air.
And the young males of the species shall vow to never smell as foul again and they shall declare their intention from henceforth to take responsibility in all matters related to personal hygiene.
Even, yea, unto changing their pants and socks more than twice a year and aiming their todgers within the porcelain of the toilet bowl.
And on that day we shall look to the heavens and, behold, from horizon to horizon our vision shall be filled with ...
... flying pigs.
5 comments:
Take it from me, it'll never happen. I am going to invent a self draining, porous toilet seat.
There, I've copyrighted it.....
And the Lord of Small Flying Pigs said "Behold, there is worse to come. Be thankful for the foul smelling underthings for soon I shall bestow gifts of magazines of dubious content, midnight phonecalls and loud guitar playing. Thy fridge will become stocked with half a piece of bread and a teaspoon of milk and thy coffee cups shall overflow with experimental bacteria of the aeons.
Be thankful for the stinking sock and the poorly aimed todger for now the season of the Hairy Hormone be upon you. Leave now I sayeth, while you can still find the door".
Meloney - you'll need co-ordinating floor covering - it's a good day when they hit the seat.
Minx - so should there be a notice in maternity wards - 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here with boy babes'?
Absolutely - abandon all until they are old enough to foul their own nests. Things can appear different when they mutter 'love you mum' - then all is forgiven, until the next time.
Did I mention tissues?
Thanks for making me smile, Debi.
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