Moist-rumped
It's only on rare occasions you find yourself thinking "What the hell, is my ass wet?" Today was one of those days.
Some random bastard appears to have stolen the mud guard off my bike. So on my way to work, at a few degrees above zero and in pouring rain, as the wetness of my rear became apparent, I looked down-and-back to see what was going on.
There, neatly attached to the seat post, was nothing.
Next time, I'm putting curare-rubbed razors along the sides.