I Smell GOOoood

Bless the Butcher’s heart. He doesn’t pick up after himself or have his own car or ever miss a chance to announce when he thinks he’s going to shit the bed, but the man has mad skills of picking out bath products.

When I buy things, I end up smelling, as I’ve said, like some kind of fuckable funeral arrangement.

When the Butcher buys things, I smell nice and clean and slightly lickable.

The Butcher is, as always, looking for a job.

In the past, I thought he should be an interior decorator, as he could spend all his time taking money from cuckolded rich men from Williamson County. They’d never suspect him as the cuckolder, since the stereotype of interior decorators is that they’re gay.

However, the Butcher hangs pictures too high. Even though he can fit furniture in the best possible configuration for any given room, having to look up to view your art is annoying.

So, now I’m thinking maybe he could be a personal shopper for these lonely Williamson County housewives. He’d make them smell good and he’d still have good cover for his crazy affairs.