Peesmell

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Warning: this article contains toilet humour.

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“If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down”

- New York's Mayor Ed Koch on on the flimsy excuse to use that quote

Bang! The door crashed open. A small cheesy boy about 3 foot high holding what looked like a small table-tennis bat with a rubber ball attached via elasticated string. Also there was a yellow urine smelling liquid on his shoes that seemed to look at me in unproper English.

For some reason everyone flew backwards in slow motion with bits of their innards peeling off to start a musical career. Then we stopped for a second and noticed the peesmell, euwww. casually levitated whilst restoring our spleens to their usual stylish selves.

We smelled, we pointed, we laughed.

Lol. The kid, dejected from our unnecessarily loud and continuous laughter, became depressed. This automatically meant his clothes turned black, his hair and heart following suit. Taking key elements from the rising emo movement, electric knives, and Devilishly Sharp's Devilishly Sharp Extra-firm Tough Rock Solid Hair Gel (sponsored By Devilishly Sharp Ltd). he impaled me and my fellow laughateers on his spiky hair whilst vibrating slightly as his brand of music sliced through his very soul.

Having wiped the floor with us, inconveniently decapitating us and several of our limbs in the process, walked off into the sunset to teenpop. Of course when he walked directly in to the setting sun he was burned to a crisp. The smell, unfortunately, lingered.

The Noble Stench

Once we were restored to our abnormal restorable selves we promptly went home and sipped some tea. Having been touched (to the point of molestation) by the heavenly toilet smell we had to find it. Packing everything we might ever need for the adventure (small frilly umbrellas that dissolve in rain, fake I.Ds with this fact pointed out to the reader on the card in bold CAPS LOCK as well as the cymbalist from contemporary metal band Large Concrete Structure. Assuming the smell would be in England and assuming the adventure would be that we would be able to find the smell, bottle it and sell it on for a huge mark-up all in time for tea! And we weren't wrong.

Accidental EUREKA!

Before we set out I needed to go for a number 1. Upon contemplating the adventure my nasal passages caught scent of something. Glancing down I realised that, having drank too many pimms earlier, the doodad between my legs was irrational. It appeared to be releasing a water like substance. I wondered what perturbed me so much about it. I then realised what I had smelled. PEESMELL! Could my frontal release fluid bare any relationship to the unearthly smell. Excited I called my compodreyes upstairs whilst patting my extra limb in an affectionate manner. Thrilled as I was they proceeded to write up the exciting discovery: Peesmell comes from Pee!

To the Goatmobile

There wasn't a moment to lose. Gathering up all the bottles and jugs available we saddled up the goat. A jiffy later. Now in the town center we made our way to the public toilets. Cleverly putting Out of Order signs on all the toilets and urinals we placed our bottles in the corner. Several awkward urine-laden situations later our merchandise was obtained. With enough supplies for a month we sold it to the Gentleman's Club. And there the stench remains, smelled by the wealthy and their ticklish peacocks. To prevent batches being made by anyone the world's entire population (minus our supplier of peesmell) was injected with mild hereditary arsenic; this permanently altered their and their offspring's urine smell. Thus ensuring we made millions.

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