Carbon monoxide ~ City morgue

~ PSA ~

At last, a tasteless college-coarse public service announcement to which I can 'relate' au sujet de carbon monoxide poissonerie.

Nota bene: the entrancing jeune allows no junk around her floor.

Nor does she purr,

"Come on in, big boy - but watch out for the all them rusty cogs and pipey things on the floor.

Dunno what they's for but they been every which way there ever since I moved in."

Repair man:

"Those need to be somewhere else, ma'am, and I can show you where."

Her:

"Well, aren't you the Mister Fixit?

Sit right here next to me - I can tell you're not Room Service or with that Thomas Cook setup.

You know wayy too much about boiler spare parts and where they should and should NOT be.

[Cute squeal] Cheeky! Yes, indeed, that's my gas alarm and from the way you're pressing it, it seems to be working just fine."