It's always in the last place ya look

The penis is a member of the mushroom family.

It's also a member of the member family.

I'm just sick of looking at that line in my book.

Alright.

Picture it.

You're in a dank place.

Candles flicker along the stone walls, sporadically lit down a long hallway.

The flames do their trapeze as you slowly etch your way forward.

The air is humid and moist.

It lays thick upon your skin like an extra set of clothes.

You blink and your eyes, once finished protesting, adjust.

This tributary oceans into a clearing just a few feet ahead of you.

A spacious, echoed room.

You're afraid to enter it.

Yet something hearkens you to it.

Something inside of you is pleading.

You enter the room.

And I'm there.

On a stone slab.

I'm naked.

And I have sushi strategically placed over my erogenous parts.

Alright.

That's a joke.

That's not what I wanted you to picture.

Thought I'd have some fun there for a second.

What would you do, by the way?

What would you do in the sushi cave?

Anyways.

Picture it:

You're watching TV.

Lights are low. You're eating chips.

You're smearing onion dip all over your stomach.

It's a typical Saturday.

Now, you take out your favourite emerald because you want to examine its lustre.

Then you drop it.

"Fuck, I dropped my emerald," you mutter to yourself.
Now, this is what I wanted to talk about.

You reach blindly under and around your seat for your emerald.

While you keep your eyes on Danger Bay.

Finally, your hand finds purchase on it.

You pick it up, blow on it, and put it back in your pocket.

With all of your other precious gems.

Never in my life.

Never in my life have I been in this situation and not had to get down on my hands and knees to find whatever I dropped.

This isn't exaggeration for effect.

I mean it.
Not once.