Unfortunately in Ketanji's America, if we want to keep making fun of 0ak at least one of us needs to go to veterinary school.
Or become gastroenterologists.....
I imagine nothing less than a full hazmat suit and breathing equipment is required to enter the bathroom straight after large Lily has deposited the previous night's gorgings.
On a completely unrelated subject, I read how a guy who worked for years in a sewage treatment plant became ill in later life and died from some kind of bacterial infection in his lungs due to breathing in the fumes from other people's shit....
So yes, Poarka's butthole is quite literally toxic!
Half my teenage years were spent getting into effluent holes... the minimum wage at the time was $5.65 USD or so. We got 2.50 more for climbing into the shit. It wasn't great money but we earned more than anybody after the 65-75 hours per week.
That's what I did in a few summers... on night shift.... the money I made was enough to keep fuel in my car, insurance, and a few pig-outs through the year. It was also enough to pay for my college tuition.
When I look back at it, I was so angry about the whole thing.
I felt like I was losing my youth. So many others had it so easier than me.
Then my mother talked me up with an Amish neighbour and they offered me a job sight unseen... so I did that.
These guys paid piece work and I could make twice that without even trying. So I went hard in heat and snow. I could attain 5-7 times the rate for a few hours at a start.... 3-5 times in the middle, and at least 3 times when I was totally fucked.
I showed the fuck up during blizzards and stoked the stove while leaving whole loaves of peanut butter, jelly, and sugar sprinkle sandwiches by it to keep my shit from freezing and my energy up.
I sweated in heatwaves when the Amish oldies went home...
Probably expended 5000 calories in a session, but I was full time in university too...
And you know what? Not one of those motherfuckers ever said a sour word to me or about me. I got invited to every Christmas of theirs ...
They were cheering for me. Some of the younger guys would chat with me outright at work or outside of work.
And the moment they got into a shit, they'd wave at me....and I knew. A horse bolting from a buggy was a big deal... especially if a kid let it happen. They knew my vehicle and knew it was safe. I couldn't go down the road if there was a problem and not get flagged down. It seemed like a inconvenience most often but I did it.
But they looked after me....