Squishy Feet in the Dark: A ta(i)le without lube

So there was I, minding my own business, which... as we all know, it is all of you, minding me, pretending not minding you, minding me, minding you; (go back and read again until it makes sense)...

 ...when suddenly I heard the sound of squishy feet trying to unstuck themselves through a soaked and very wet field of horse and cow manure. 

I thought to myself! (with a thick sottish accent putting emphasis on the R's):

 

Forrr whom? orrr forrrr what? arrre they coming forrr? 

It was who is now known as Xanax Resident! 

Upon the noticing the upmost amazing display of observational expertise, intellectual calculation and mathematical skills about my secondlife age, I could not bear myself being in the presence of such high mathematics and physics nobel prize contender (who in my mind sounded very upper class posh British) and therefore I could only resort to exclude my existence from the holier than thou Xanax Resident.

However, and as we all know, my irresistible charm, looks, kindness, politeness and magnetic personality, did what has been doing for a long time and brought her back over and over to walk by, to let me know and enlighten us all on local chat about how delightful and considerate I have always been.

 

and despite receiving this auto message on every attempt to bring me back to her life
she kept going on and on and on the wet manure... 

 

 Looks like it is another case of butt hurt because I did not use lube.

 

... in my defense, it was dark.