Pleasant is not a word I would use…
To describe the scent of this ooze.

Unlike any other dump I’ve let loose…
Insanity is something this could induce.

As if I were struck by a physical blow…
I’m overwhelmed by this stinky flow.

I’m drowning in this wretched stench.
In a fog of brown, I feel I’m drenched.

Such raw power is this fecal atrocity…
Lighting a match would not erase its memory.

And much like the spiral of this Mr. Whippy…
Downward gurgles my fragile sanity.

The only way to destroy this sickening grease…
Is to call upon The Poopie Priest!