When World’s Collide
I like science. I like facts and all things pertaining to facts. But I’m not a huge fan of doing research, so I’ve come up with this phenomenon called emotio-fictio-research. It’s a made up term (by me) where I assume that how I feel about something is actually how it is. In other words, I sit and decide how something is, and you cannot refute me over not using proper research tactics because I’m not claiming that it is real (that’s the “fictio” part). Anyways, I’ve always wondered what poop is thinking. I feel like there is a poop community that is comprised of all our little poops. And when the poops get flushed it is like their death, and they become reunited with their poop friends and family.
Think this is too outlandish? Think again. People starts with “p”, poop starts with “p”. People have body odor, poops have body odor. People are born out large fleshy holes, poops are born out of large fleshy holes. People cry when being born, poops cry when being born (we call it farting). When poop is born, nobody wants to touch it but everyone has to look at it, just like people. You see, people and poop aren’t all that different.
It only stands to reason that poops are more use than we give them credit for. Some are long, some are short, some are fat, some are skinny, and all of them fall somewhere in between. What about the runny ones? Those are miscarriages, and out of respect for poop, we won’t discuss them further.
I really can’t wait for the day when we can bridge the communication barrier between people and their poops. I would be a huge medical advancement because poop could evaluate our inner workings for us and tell us what might be at risk of going out. Imagine a poop coming out and saying “bro, lay off the nexium, you have no stomach lining left.” Or “dude, those blue cap’n crunches are the truth, they’re gonna call me smurf daddy in poop heaven.” The possibilities are limitless. But until that day, take it sleazy.
-Harold “Stinky” Dickenson