What Does The World Think?

Question

t was my normal morning routine, minus the cup of coffee. Just a few nights before I'd made my unbelievably good Irish potato and cheese soup: corned beef and cabbage stock seasoned with green onion and flat-leaf parsley, Yukon gold potatoes, and then grated extra sharp Vermont cheddar to melt and sweet Dublin-style cheddar sliced into little cubes so you have these great little chunks of cheddar floating in the corned beef and cabbage cheese broth. It makes for a really great soup; unfortunately, all that cheese can overpower the laxative effect of the cabbage and bind you up a bit.
Sitting on the throne the morning after soup-o-rama, I was straining to make the brown biscuits; but they were stuck in my colon like a recalcitrant turtlehead, so I just performed a cursory wipe and jumped into the shower.

Partway through the shower I felt a great buildup of pressure and let rip with a real barn-burner. The stench of the cabbage-cheese fart, combined with the steam from the hot water, was unbearable. I finished soaping up, rinsed down, and jumped out of the shower.

To my chagrin, I then noticed something terrible. There on the shower floor sat something that looked like a deer turd. Actually, though, it was a Hieronymous turd: an obviously tightly-compacted little bugger that must have shot out when I birthed that shower-evacuating nose-hair-curler.

My first thought was, "Damn, glad I caught that before anyone else came in here." I grabbed a wad of toilet paper, grabbed the thing up, and tossed it in the terlet. The turd was so compacted that it didn't even leave a smear. Quick spray with some 409 that was under the sink, a little more toilet paper, and I was out of there.

Unfortunately, the rest of the morning didn't offer much relief. Come lunchtime I decided to flush myself out with several cups of coffee... but that's a story for another day.

Answer 1

Dude, you are a guy, right? . . . you're a good writer.
Do you write about other subjects too?
.

Answer 2

I'm not sure what the world thinks, or would do, but if I were a co-worker, someone who rode the lift with you, or a significant other, I would avoid you like the plague until the Vesuvius that is sure to be your digestive tract completes the inevitable purge (hopefully in the appropriate vessel).

I've heard of sneezing and pee'ing, but not projectile flatulence, which you seem to have achieved.

If I were you I would wear protective undergarments to protect the innocent.

Answer 3

It Depends on if you wear them or not.