How men are able to, uh, relieve themselves in that...thing is a mystery to me.
There's something behind that bin.
It's a grill, covering what looks like a narrow passage.
There's light at the end of the tunnel. Looks like it leads into a larger ventilation or service duct of sorts.
"Instant Heat -- For That Special Moment When Manly Vigor Is Required...Fast!". Hah! Their secret revealed.
It's a potency pill vending machine.
It's a urinal.
It's a garbage can.
I shudder to think what's been done in this.
It's filthy.
I don't even wanna find out.
I feel like I'm spending my entire life pushing trash from one place to another. Weirdest thing, that.
Hey, lookie. It's a hole in the wall, cleverly concealed. You gotta hand it to them, they know security.
I don't like dark and claustrophobic spaces, but it's either this or a life of slavery in the colonies.
You never know when you're gonna need Instant Heat, the number one source of manly vigor.
I can't get to it.
It's screwed tight. Curse the day I traded away my screwdriver!
It's screwed tight.
How the hell am I supposed to use this?
Uh, I'll...go some other time.
And get my hands dirty? I think not.
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Please be adviced that excessive use of Instant Heat, the Number One Source of Manly Vigor, can cause involuntary spasms and discharge.
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