There's so much stress out in the world.
Time for a little art and chaos.
I title this piece: Bad Victorian Literature Parody.
"We must come together against all odds, futitive and impervious though they may be, to resolve our grevious situation."
"Whatever do you mean, kind sir?" spoke the dirty man with nary a tooth in his head, nor proper shoes.
"Well," spoke the similarly attired one, "Our urination situation has become rather precarious. No longer can we fertilize the street of the village square with our own secretions."
The second man scratched two fleas which had nested in his underarm before contemplating this issue further.
"Have they not considered that it is not enough for us to defoul our own clothing, bodies, or mud-plots?"
The first man tipped his imaginary hat to a passing lady, then replied,
"They find us revolting, they say. Though I daresay they cannot understand a gent's desire to be so uncouth after imbibing intoxicating liquors".
Aghast, his companion let out a mock shudder.
"This is most upsetting, yes, yes".