In the shower, sensing the great outdoors is near, The Smitty scours the shower floor looking for the gateway.
“I can smell it!”
But a thin veil separates The Smee from the olfactory paradise winking at him (nasally speaking) from the beyond. He looks up at The Misters with a look that says –
[oh no, here comes the anthropomorphizing again! – ed.]
[you know, if it weren’t for the existence of brackets, yo, you wouldn’t exist – other ed.]
(silence of --“ed.”)
Anyway, he has the same puzzled look that The Smee has.
Q.E.D., yo.
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