Furry toilet seat covers
My hands shake. My eyes are not as good as they were in my youth. My belly has grown and other important parts seem to have shrunk considerably. So, I’m ok with a hedge, wall or urinal. But no longer can I point at a pan with the confident aim of youth. Which is ok. I sit. It’s a rest, a chance to read, and your pretty much guaranteed to be on target. And I no longer fear the furry toilet seat cover. And now that they are no longer a threat they seem to have gone out of fashion.
The furry toilet seat cover. It was a thing of terror. You’d lift the lid, and it would seem safe. So you’d aim & release. And the furry seat cover would smile and use its evil power, the balance of the lid would alter, and down it would come. If you were lucky the shock of it smacking your end was enough to stop the flow. But all to often you just couldn’t stop. The damn cover then acted like a urine sponge. Frantically you’d point away, trying to find sink or bath, but more likely finding the floor, the loo roll, readers digest magazine. And it was never in your own home, but some upper class aunt or important business client, who were far to posh to have easily wiped lino on the floor. But now the furry toilet seat cover seems to be a thing of the past. That’s why the youth of today are soft. That’s why crime increases and good manners have vanished. Because the young men of today have not experienced the shared suffering and ritual humiliation that was the furry toilet seat cover.
Well, should my house purchase ever happen be assured that Old Man Rich cares not one jot for fashion. There will be a furry toilet seat cover even if I have to knit it myself.
The furry toilet seat cover. It was a thing of terror. You’d lift the lid, and it would seem safe. So you’d aim & release. And the furry seat cover would smile and use its evil power, the balance of the lid would alter, and down it would come. If you were lucky the shock of it smacking your end was enough to stop the flow. But all to often you just couldn’t stop. The damn cover then acted like a urine sponge. Frantically you’d point away, trying to find sink or bath, but more likely finding the floor, the loo roll, readers digest magazine. And it was never in your own home, but some upper class aunt or important business client, who were far to posh to have easily wiped lino on the floor. But now the furry toilet seat cover seems to be a thing of the past. That’s why the youth of today are soft. That’s why crime increases and good manners have vanished. Because the young men of today have not experienced the shared suffering and ritual humiliation that was the furry toilet seat cover.
Well, should my house purchase ever happen be assured that Old Man Rich cares not one jot for fashion. There will be a furry toilet seat cover even if I have to knit it myself.
posted by Old Man Rich at 11:33 AM
1 Comments:
You gals need to try aiming one of these things. Especially after a few pints. All the pressure of a fire hose without the convenient handling size. Seriously, once its going its pretty much ok but that first blast could go anywhere. Then there is the shake at the end. If like me, you are 'not large' but blessed with a foreskin you can windsurf with then you need some pretty vigerous shaking or your gonna put little rich away and find he's still dripping. And I'm afraid that when you shake those drips just go off anywhere. Yup, god may be good at beetles but the human plumbing sucks.
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