Kulti was just a man. I closed my eyes and thought of the first thing that could get me out of my holy-shit-it’s-Kulti-standing-right-there trance. Poop. He poops. He poops. Right. That was all I needed to snap out of it. I pictured an image of him sitting on the porcelain throne to remind me he was just a normal man with needs like everyone. I knew this—I’d known this for the longest. He was just a man with parents that pooped and peed and slept like the rest of us. Poop, poop, poop, poop, poop. Right. I was good. I was really fine.
This is funny
