It happens so often. I get up in the morning, struggling for
air and consciousness, and stumble to the dungbowl. Just for a nice, relief bringing piss. Suddenly there's a small explosion at my rear, infact almost a baker's dozen, of mini shells popping and cracking.
The fabric of the morning's virgin peace is torn. Like a white flag,
desecrated. I am embarassed, indeed overcome with shame. People around, those who've heard or smelt, are sick and embarassed themselves, perhaps resentful. Possibly, who knows, I am building a world of trouble for myself.
This fart gas is a daily ritual I cannot eliminate. My bowels mock me with their vengeful quacking.
Help me, please.
― gramps, Sunday, 5 September 2004 01:08 (twenty years ago)
four months pass...
one year passes...
This fart gas is a daily ritual I cannot eliminate.Sounds like elimination is something he has no problem with.
― Pleasant Plains /// (Pleasant Plains ///), Friday, 5 May 2006 15:41 (nineteen years ago)