The shit-pocalypse Clutch is raining down on the toilet abruptly ceases. It's like even her innards know the significance of this most excellent offer and are waiting with bated breath. 

A long pause follows. 

A whisper of a fart is faintly heard. 

"You're a creepy lil fucker.. what the fuck.... you got yerself a GOSH DAMN deal... under a few conditions: 

One - I don't hafta ever join your vampire coven or whatever the fuck it is...

Two - That Krisstoffer weirdo never, ever ever ever, gets within biting distance of me. 

Three - y'all never use black magics on me and don't even think bout ever askin' me to drink random ass stuff from a cup. 

Agree to that and you're fuckin' on! 

And as a good faith sign and a thanks for replying lickity split, here's the answer to yer other question... "

A sound like fabric scrunching together is heard, then a pair of white panties fly over the top of the stall and land on Dyson's head. The camera gets a close-up of them, confirming that, yes, the beefer Clutch ripped did have a little extra.. 

And then another round of shit-poclypse kicks up in the stall.