The Darragh Man.
"Naw!" Ian dived and bumped his head as the stall solidified. Nice little tinkles, Ian would always have. I am an 18 year old on his summer holidays yet here I am at 3 am discussing old man bowels. What a ride.
As Ian continued to relieve, a voice boomed. Whose mother could it be?
"Ian boy! That's some actual relieving yer daein there! Pure god!"
Sigmund Freud! Everyone's dear! Dressed in the uniform. Golf jumper, Suit, clip on tie, swimming shorts. Ian isn't ready to handle shorts. Neither is the world.
"Sig..." Ian could sense a duel.
As Ian continued to relieve, a voice boomed. Whose mother could it be?
"Ian boy! That's some actual relieving yer daein there! Pure god!"
Sigmund Freud! Everyone's dear! Dressed in the uniform. Golf jumper, Suit, clip on tie, swimming shorts. Ian isn't ready to handle shorts. Neither is the world.
"Sig..." Ian could sense a duel.