In my younger days, I was an active caver, exploring caves in the eastern US, mostly in West Virginia. The Potomac Appalachian Trail Club (PATC) owned an old farm house in Pendleton County where hikers, cavers, and rock climbers could spend the night and it was primitive to say the least. The "bathroom" was an outhouse located about 10 yards from the house. The stench emanating from that place was legendary. Finally, someone placed a sign that had been retrieved from an old mine shaft and nailed it to the door of the outhouse as a warning: "BAD AIR". Frankly you could gag on the smell well before you could read that sign.
And 3 more, wife oldest, middle and youngest. Stopped counting there. Kind of went viral as they kids sent it to their friends in student houses. Seems they can relate to this.
While on a service call, the young female lab tech I was dealing with was continually being asked out by a younger assistant. She finally said, "It's not how big your pencil is, it's how well you write." His response, "ah, ah, I have good penmanship."
Clouds of hair, mists of blood, shredded t-shirt and the noise of dying in agony.
And offcourse the sound of said cat licking its behind stretching its leg and looking for a cozy seat.
There is a reason why commando's do not wear cats.