Hello, ladies.
Look at the clouds, now back to me, now back to the clouds, now back to me. Sadly, they aren't me, but if they stopped using lady-scented bodywash and switched to Old Masculine they could at least smell like me.
Look down. Look up. Where are you? You're in the sky, with the cloud your cloud could smell like.
What's in your hand? Back at me. I have it! It's a brofist, containing five fingers with that punch you hate.
Look again. The brofist is now killing you!
Anything's possible when your cloud smells like Old Masculine and not a lady.
I'm on a nun.