Oh god, moving makes it worse!

Lucius is wandering around the chair and licking the floor here and there. Not the impassioned and feverish licking of someone who just found a dried puddle of chocolate ice cream on the floor, but casual test licks. Does this floor taste good? No? How about this part? No? This one over here? I'm sure it's partially due to the permanent butt smell my little brother has imparted upon this section of the computer room. It's somewhere between teenage boy funk and fart, and the odor is very close to reaching up its soggy arms, wrapping them around my throat, and dragging me down to hell where it is more powerful than anything we could imagine here on earth. God save us from the wrath of boy stank.