Unpleasant that can happen to you, urban dweller

[poettrees]

As you make your way home from the cafe, someone may shovel a shovel full of mud from a rooftop, about half of which smacks you in the cleavage, leaving you to walk the next half mile home like you're coming home from a kinky bachelor party.

I have no idea the provenance of the roof mud, and yes, that concerns me.