The boy stood on the burning deck whence all but he had fled; a seagull circled high above and crapped upon his head.

The seagull was of giant size - no ordinary bird; it didn't just mess up his hair, it buried him in turd.

And as the flames drew closer he prepared his fate to meet - but the faecal insulation did protect him from the heat.

The outer layer of the shit was baked and boiled and fried, but the cool and moist guano kept the boy alive inside.

And when the ship had foundered the boy remained afloat, encased in hardened faeces, and was picked up by a boat.

They took him to his mum, who hailed him with a joyful shout - but oh! what a calamity! They could not get him out.

The shit had set like concrete, and no matter how they tried, they could not crack the crust - he'd have to stay there till he died.

And the moral of this story is: get off a burning ship, or spend your life sequestered in a giant seagull shit.

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