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Grade 4 piles are like permanent butt plugs that won’t go back in no matter how hard you scream and stomp your feet, so you gotta run like a horse to the nearest cream
I tried to sit down at the table and my piles just hung there like a sad banner, so I sprinted to the bathroom like I was being chased by a fire truck.
My piles are out for good, and I’m not even exaggerating. I had to gallop to the nearest store just to buy some lube and dignity.
At work, my piles decided to make a grand exit, so I bolted to the break room like I was in a race against a giant, smelly donut.