Revenge of the Doodooman
Okay first off I don't want to sound like a prophet elucidating some sort of rules. But first it might help to explain some shit about me. I can see peoples auras. Not like their soul or feelings or thoughts. I can see when the last time they farted and pooped was. Don't laugh but I also used to be a big constipation theorist. This means I thought the government wants to take our bathrooms away because government is Latin for poopy regulations. Boy I was poopwashed because it's so much worse. This is the highly credible account of a message I found in a bathroom stall.
So how it all sharted was I had a massive poo once. It got so involved that it started to flood and the dogs began barking all around the hood and the neighbors called the cops. I couldn't tell what was inside or outside anymore. So since then sometimes I can't always tell which smells are in the flesh or which smells are of the spirit. I occupy a place called the shitterstice - or sometimes the interspoop - in between the physical poop and the spiritual crap. That's enough backstory.
This time I'm fairly sure I was in the shitterstice, because the public restroom accepted no genders. I smelt a vision of the world coming undone and the sky being rolled up like toilet paper. A great beast plopped out and it was like it could see into my underwear. Then came a great voice that was like many toilets flushing but I don't know what it said because I can't read braille. It was like an octopus wearing really big pajamas, or something I saw clogging the drain once. It started like handing out minecraft valentines cards. They were custom made for each stall but a little of the gist was: like a call of nature no man knows the time or hour. Which didn't make sense cause there was a really big clock like right there. I think he said he used to be the god of party pooping but he lost his diefic status when it went out of style and he got flushed. This was how I came to know of the prophecy of the revenge of the doodooman, and felt the first stomach rumblings of Epooptymology.
Some other shit happened that I won't bore you with the details (it seems there is already a similar record anyway) but it climaxed when he tried to give me a book to eat, but after seeing where it came from I said no thanks I don't do drugs. It said it would feel good going in, but burn and hurt going out. So now I can say, don't order from the secret menu at a Mexican restaurant. If you never want to hear about rules again, let this be one to remember. Doodoo this in remembrance of me.
Original author unknown
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