Don’t be poop

The excitement of life. I am planning an expedition. Not to a remote destination or a hip local replacement, but into the beast’s lair. Every night I lay my head down above the lair; who knows what foul secrets the beast has collected. Stolen objects, mortal and not alike, hidden away. Let the beast have his lair, let him secret away whatever I am foolish enough to abandon in his reach. Just don’t be poop. That damn cat can drag a Subway sandwich under the bed, I don’t care. Just don’t be poop. Don’t be poop.

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