You know those sprays people buy to mask the orders left when they take a shit? They’re worse than the shit, and I mean way worse. I was, for the most part, indifferent about the usage of such sprays until I worked with someone who would flood the restroom with the foul stench every time they took a shit. They’d walk by me afterwards, and the cloud of toxic fumes would engulf me and chock my lungs until I’m crawling on the ground pleading for a gas mask from the BDSM coworker on the other side of the room. I’d always feel like I’d prefer the gas chamber to such foul stenches, then I thought about it a little. There’s nothing different twixt a gas chamber and the suffering I was being put through. Perhaps the difference was I was suffering instead of dying. Why can’t the fucking manufacturing companies…
