When the void plays a kazoo.

Uranus, is full of Nazis.

You’re not ready for this. Just saying. You’re not. But it’s soooooo worth it.

It was while staring into the void that this morning's breakfast burrito broke loose

It was then that I knew several things.

It’s The Morning of Things We Haven’t Heard In Forever.

The void echoes and amplifies sound.

I hate to be the one to break this to you however Butt Nazi’s are actually a thing.

Butt Nazis don’t sound pleasant.

Especially if a kazoo is involved.

Which admittedly, is much more comfortable that a tuba or a saxophone a kazoo is problematic when the butt Nazis salute.

Be glad you did not see that coming.

Even so, while rhythmic

The sound is decidedly not melodic nor harmonious in the least. During this learning experience about my screaming burning nether orifice from hell

I discovered that yes indeed

Consciousness experiencing itself is a distraction from consciousness experiencing itself.

While generally true was not distracting in the unpleasant now of now.

I am also fairly certain that rectal aromatherapy is assuredly a fascist plot, or torture developed by failed Austrian liberal arts students obsessed with bdsm political boot licking. Excuse me please,

“hey you, you there , stand still laddie!

Quit using my pen to break up the toilet ice.”

Recruits these days.

Where was I?

(Wet kazoo warbling echoes from the bathroom stall.)

“Oh please God make this stop!”