Sunshine on my buttcheeks
A brush with death in Oxford, pt. II (MYSTERY POST #5)
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I’m not a guy who’s naked a lot. I’m the sort of fella who disrobes for his daily shower and, once fully washed and dried, says to himself, “That’s quite enough of that,” and re-robes for the rest of the day. My college improv group used to go streaking through a campus fountain every year; I always politely declined.
So the day that my bathroom roof co…