The Discount Bovine


Literal Warnings
Spherical 1: The Discount Bovine
A metropolis slicker thought he was scoring the deal of the century when he noticed a categorised advert for a suspiciously low cost dairy cow.

He rushed to the farm, inspected the animal, and located her in seemingly good situation. “She seems to be nice to me,” the customer remarked, pulling out his pockets. “So why is the worth so extremely low?”

The farmer sighed, chewing on a chunk of hay. “Properly, just like the advert says, she simply don’t look too good.”

Considering the outdated farmer was simply being crucial of her markings, the customer gladly handed over the money and trucked the cow house.

Three days later, the customer stormed again onto the farm, completely shedding his thoughts. “You ripped me off! I need a full refund! You fully failed to say that this rattling cow is 100% blind!”

The farmer calmly shrugged his shoulders. “No can do, companion. I warned you proper from the beginning… she don’t look too good.”

Spherical 2: The Excessive-Altitude Management Panel
A person on a cross-country flight immediately discovered himself in a state of absolute, toe-tapping toilet emergency.

He paced the aisle frantically, however the males’s room remained stubbornly occupied. Seeing his sheer desperation, a sympathetic flight attendant leaned in and whispered, “Look, I’ll allow you to use the women’ room simply this as soon as. However underneath one strict situation: don’t contact any of the buttons on the wall.”

Relieved, the person slipped inside. As he sat down, his eyes instantly drifted to a smooth management panel that includes 4 mysterious buttons labeled: WW, WA, PP, and ATR.

Naturally, fully ignoring the warning, his curiosity received. He tapped the primary button, WW. Immediately, a delicate stream of Heat Water sprayed his bottom. “Wow, ladies actually have it made,” he purred.

Emboldened, he pressed WA. A soothing blast of Heat Air completely dried him off.

Subsequent, he pressed PP. An opulent Powder Puff mechanically prolonged, delicately making use of a contemporary layer of soppy talcum powder. “That is absolute paradise!” he thought.

Unable to withstand the grand finale, he slammed his finger onto the final button, ATR.

…And all the pieces went violently black.

Hours later, he wakened in a sterile hospital mattress, groggy and trapped in a world of excruciating pelvic ache. He frantically buzzed for the nurse. “What occurred?!” he wheezed. “The very last thing I bear in mind, I used to be having fun with the posh settings in an airplane restroom!”

The nurse sighed, giving him a glance of deep, medical pity.

“Sure, the flight crew discovered you handed out on the ceiling. You had been doing simply fantastic, sir, till you hit the ATR button. Seems, that stands for Automated Tampon Remover.”