This is the story of one of my many successful bowel movements. I don’t know about you but after a bowel movement I like to stand up and survey the results before they are hidden by toilet paper.
Today was a red letter day, an Oscar winning performance, nay, an Olympic gold medal effort. This enormous poo jutted out of the water like an iceberg. One part rearing out of the bowl and the rest sinking fathoms deep around and into the s-bend. Huge and imposing I could have planted our flag on top and claimed it for Australia. To my eyes it looked as if it was bursting out of the water like an island being formed by a volcano.
After admiring its proportions I flushed, then flushed again and again. Stubbornly it remained immovable. How to get it to sink? Would it stay to illustrate my success to all and sundry? Ok I was proud, but there are limits even for me. Frantically I cast an eye round the room. The only weapon to combat the beast was the toilet brush. Wielding it like a sword I cut and thrust wounding the mammoth in many places. Breaking it asunder, I was able to flush it away. Later I wished I had taken a photo to put in my boast book. Ah me; greatness was thrust upon me but I sacrificed it for good hygeine.
This is absolutely the last time I will write about poo. Enough is enough.
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