Desecration of the mind, desecration of the soul.
Someone has done something ungodly to this bowl.
It’s left in such a foul and pitiful-pooey condition.
I’m going to need a priest to perform an inquisition.
Or maybe an exorcism, to remove the turdly taint.
It’s as if Satan came in and used his poo to paint.
Some sort of caca-crime was committed right here.
I take a step back and then flee in fecal fear.