I keep on threatening to send my roommate a picture of a placenta. I’ll give the e-mail a really innocuous subject, like “This Fridge for Our Dorm Next Semester?,” and then she’ll open it and behold the graphic sight of a big, red, meaty, veiny, bloody placenta.
She just needs to see it. It is…her time.
…sometimes in the stables, while I was grooming a male horse - let’s call him “Roanie” - the horse would start to, uh, dangle his thing, and one of the instructors would see and yell, “ROANIE!!! ROAAA-NIEEE! PUT ITAWAY!!!” Then she’d smack his hindquarters with a crop, and he’d quickly slide his thing back in.
Carrying a medium coffee in my bladder. It hurts a bit.