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My poop story.
I lived in a dookie (pun on purpose) apartment complex in a college town, literally $300 a month, on a river in the south. So a small and always very high maintenance team worked for them. They showed up (stoned) and were changing everyone’s filters. Heard. Ok come in. I had a particularly funky little caesars pizza not an hour before the incident. We were making small talk and such as these things tend to linger, I suddenly felt a disturbance in my lower gut (bubbleguts). I felt confident in my distance from the maintenance guy that I got squeeze out a fart and then distract him into another room. This was no fart. At slightest bit of effort I put towards this fart a flood of terrible pizza diarrhea shot out of my ass like a goddamn rocket. As I was staring this man in the eye. I was staring another human being in the eyes...while I pooed my pants. To this day not only do I have no clue if he knew or not but I would still pay thousands of dollars to just see my face when that happened.
That is my poop story.
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🍷 Oh, but of course!
or something similar, I lose control of my bodily functions and go into a mad, crazed state of unrelenting sexual frenzy! Before I know it, the entire neighborhood is soaked, and worst of all, I have to order a new Mr. Duck™ every time! So please, remember to keep your children at least 100 yards from my property, and try to keep the