Monday, February 21, 2022


When I returned from a walk and pipe, the doorway into the apartment was partially blocked by toilet paper packs. Two dozen rolls. Asking my apartment mate about this obviously abandoned domestic project -- moving the bumwad from the hallway along the wall to the bathroom, and leaving it halfway the distance, I got the answer: "Stonehenge".
The fabled and as yet not discovered "tissue henge".
I think she simply left it there.
To be continued.

So I mentioned to her that all over Britain there are, in fact, much smaller magic monumental circles. If you're not careful, you might stumble over them and destroy them.
Made by the little people. Pixies.

Constructed of 'faecaliths'.

A fecalith is an encrusted lump of hardened digestive system waste matter that occurs in some patients with Chagas disease, Hirschsprung's disease, inflammatory bowel disease, and sometimes in the case of appendicitis.

Which reminded her of the time two and half years ago when I ruined her weekend by waking her up at five in the morning to go to the hospital because my appendix had ruptured. Because "unlike a sensible person", I had not gone to the hospital two days earlier when the pain began, but "no, you waited till the most inconvenient moment possible to wake me up by suffering".
That was on Aidswalk morning. My exploded internal organ severely inconvenienced her. Delayed her participation in a yearly ritual by a few hours.
Sorry. It also inconvenienced me.

Anyhow, stone circles.
With dancing fairies around them in bosky glades. How beautiful! I have explained this also to people at work, and instead of telling me to shut the Eff up, as she guessed that they would have, they gazed at me with rapt attention. Because of course normal people are enchanted by the idea of fecaliths. There probably wasn't a fecalith birthing in my bowels -- surely the doctor would have preserved it in a jar of vinegar and presented it to me when they released me from the ICU five days later, I'm just guessing -- and in any case fecaliths, when they occur, are just one per person, so it would have taken possibly decades of dead people to harvest enough of them to build a circle. England represents several centuries of humans dying for the benefit of fairies. Selfless sacrifice that made the world a better place.

Anyhow, I had never even mentioned 'faecaliths' to her before now -- strange, it's such a fascinating and important subject -- but now I fear I may never hear the end of it
I think I need a place to hide out for the rest of the day.

The other thing I've been told today is that in a zombie apocalypse, the royal family has nothing to fear. There's nothing there that would attract the zombies, they'd walk right past them.
Zombies aren't looking for fecaliths.

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