We can’t use this flannel. It’s has s*** on it.


Oh yeah? How much?


How much s*** is on it? This is where rules of personal hygiene – long established  – become distorted – bent, if you will – or even broken. Twisted like a twisted thing.


Back in the day, if something had s*** on it, it was s***ty. If you stepped in a some dogs s***, your shoes were s***ty. Not so any more.


“I don’t see where the s*** is.”


“In the corner.”


“Do we have any clean ones?”


“They’re in the dryer.”


“Oh. This one will be alright.”

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