Degeneration. The word didn't exactly roll

Degeneration. The word didn't exactly roll off the tongue, especially now that his mind was pulling a Flowers for Algernon and nose diving into oblivion. The only cure: blood.

Pope Benedict XVI desperately hoped no one would find out the secret of his degeneration and his aversion to the blood cure... that he had an uncontrollable urge to

to shit in the pope hat. It was elongated and pointy, is made for a Pontiff Poop. Then he could smirk as he blessed the world because only he would know about the turd, so he shook

it to the end of the Pontiff Poop hat (called a mitre in some circles), and proceeded to cut off the point. Pope Poopie could now serve poop pastries with his new pastry bag, but

were they Ecumenical? Unsure, he consulted various religious leaders from around the world. The good news was that as far as poop was concerned, they were united in

their affinity for women's soiled undergarments. This would create a lifelong quest.

noon, intending to level up once again in "World of Strange, Sexually Charged, Swordcraft." Once again he questioned this use (waste?) of his time but before him reared

an enormous rear. It was hairy and there was a tattoo on the left cheek that said "

If you can read this, you're too close." True that.