I nearly forgot about that slave I was keeping in my dungeon. He must be thirsty! I mean it’s prolly been days since his last drink before I threw him in his cold dingy cage. I find him weak and crumpled in the corner. I begin to release a hot steamy stream of piss into a wine glass I brought so my slave can quench his thirst. Go ahead, drink up! I know it you’d rather have water, but my sweet nectar is the only thing my slaves drink. Maybe if you drink the whole glass, I’ll let you wash it down with a fat loogie that I spit down your parched throat.