Shit Stories: Part Number Two
As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.
Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.
Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
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soylent green is poopy!
Lo these many years ago, it is round about the end of the seventies, early eighties, and we are Small. My brother Mike and I are each minding our own business - most likely playing 'guys' (which any self-respecting kid knows is what 'action figures' are really called) or searching tv channels in the hope of finding a rerun of a rerun of a rerun (etc) of 'star trek' we haven't seen before - to this day the episode with evil spock (aka goatee-ed spock) eludes me. and yes, mine has been a tortured existence because of this, thanks for asking.
-- After a while it becomes apparent to us both that our elder brother Tim was no where to be found. 'Strange', think we, but not strange enough actually to look for him, which is fine in the end, because he found us.
"Hey you two, I have something to show you."
These are words to make any younger sibling tremble. A previous uttering of those same words found him, in a display of agility I'm sure was breathtaking to behold, holding us each down in such a way that I was forced to kiss Mike's buttcheeks, and Mike was forced to let me.
-- With that assault fresh in our minds, we were suitably frightened at what might befall us, yet incapable of resisting the lure of his siren call. Soon where he had been became all too obvious, as I'm sure dear reader, you've guessed.
-- Into the tiny powder room (fancy!) we went, and with a flourish that would've made the finest conjurer envious, he raised the lid of the toilet to show us his latest creation.
-- It was a sight to be reckoned with: form, figure, length, girth - it had all of these. It was an awe-inspiring poop. And it was green. -- not the green you'd expect from a fetid rotting colon, no. It was the green that makes the Irish pine for the home country. The green of childhood memory, of perfect spring days, of family and home. It was not merely green, but GREEN.
-- It seems dear Tim, as a good boy scout, had conceived of a fiendish plan and spent many days in carrying it out: he had been ingesting massive quantities of green food coloring: with every meal, with every snack; he even drank it straight.
-- I reminded him of this this past St. Patrick's Day, and though he's a big shot on the New York stage, he admitted he's had few prouder moments than what he created then, and the effect it had on us, his first audience.
( , Sat 29 Mar 2008, 8:48, 1 reply)
Lo these many years ago, it is round about the end of the seventies, early eighties, and we are Small. My brother Mike and I are each minding our own business - most likely playing 'guys' (which any self-respecting kid knows is what 'action figures' are really called) or searching tv channels in the hope of finding a rerun of a rerun of a rerun (etc) of 'star trek' we haven't seen before - to this day the episode with evil spock (aka goatee-ed spock) eludes me. and yes, mine has been a tortured existence because of this, thanks for asking.
-- After a while it becomes apparent to us both that our elder brother Tim was no where to be found. 'Strange', think we, but not strange enough actually to look for him, which is fine in the end, because he found us.
"Hey you two, I have something to show you."
These are words to make any younger sibling tremble. A previous uttering of those same words found him, in a display of agility I'm sure was breathtaking to behold, holding us each down in such a way that I was forced to kiss Mike's buttcheeks, and Mike was forced to let me.
-- With that assault fresh in our minds, we were suitably frightened at what might befall us, yet incapable of resisting the lure of his siren call. Soon where he had been became all too obvious, as I'm sure dear reader, you've guessed.
-- Into the tiny powder room (fancy!) we went, and with a flourish that would've made the finest conjurer envious, he raised the lid of the toilet to show us his latest creation.
-- It was a sight to be reckoned with: form, figure, length, girth - it had all of these. It was an awe-inspiring poop. And it was green. -- not the green you'd expect from a fetid rotting colon, no. It was the green that makes the Irish pine for the home country. The green of childhood memory, of perfect spring days, of family and home. It was not merely green, but GREEN.
-- It seems dear Tim, as a good boy scout, had conceived of a fiendish plan and spent many days in carrying it out: he had been ingesting massive quantities of green food coloring: with every meal, with every snack; he even drank it straight.
-- I reminded him of this this past St. Patrick's Day, and though he's a big shot on the New York stage, he admitted he's had few prouder moments than what he created then, and the effect it had on us, his first audience.
( , Sat 29 Mar 2008, 8:48, 1 reply)
Star Trek
Mirror, Mirror is here:
www.cbs.com/classics/star_trek/video/video.php?cid=649539296&pid=DJzKAA7V6UJx0oFsK5PQ_9GcaC4bIQ7l&play=true&cc=1
As for the green poo, blueberries will also turn it green.
( , Sun 30 Mar 2008, 0:11, closed)
Mirror, Mirror is here:
www.cbs.com/classics/star_trek/video/video.php?cid=649539296&pid=DJzKAA7V6UJx0oFsK5PQ_9GcaC4bIQ7l&play=true&cc=1
As for the green poo, blueberries will also turn it green.
( , Sun 30 Mar 2008, 0:11, closed)
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