He's the exception.
When I was about six, we moved into an old-ass house in South Mississippi that hadn't been inhabited for quite some time before we got there. The day before we brought all of our boxed-up shit from our old residence, we tried to spend the night there. I think we would have been able to do so if it hadn't been for this:
And then a few years later we moved to the hillbilly arctic tundra (Pennsylvania), and I got a cat that did this:
And then a few days ago after a shower, I used too much toilet paper, and I made a hasty retreat from the steadily flowing water only to end up like this:
So, yeah, I really hate toilets. And turds.
Except for this little guy. :D
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