Why someone would make a poo, and leave it to float around in the terlet.
How in the world they made this poo and left it there for me to look at, but managed to not use any terlet paper.
Why I felt compelled to pee it to bits when I peed.
These things, these are things I do not understand.
Thank you.
–Tim
Tim,
thank you for sharing with us.
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Sammy, and I’m wearing Milk-Bone™ underwear.”
only a ‘few’ things you don’t understand?
:rolleyes:
Just a WAG, but maybe the TP went down with the flush and the log didn’t?
Why am I responding to this thread? :rolleyes:
Who calls it a “terlet”? This is a new one on me!
Tim, Tim, Tim…
Too Much Information.
Terlet? Eh. ::shrug:: slang, that’s all. It was a pretty small turd, so I don’t think the non-flush was it. I think someone around here is just dirty. Or maybe they had an anus like in my sig.
TMI is an anagram of Tim. 
–Tim
I’ve always wondered why I always happen to be the one to stumble upon said turd.
A typical scenario: Nice, pleasant, evening with a member of the opposite sex. Things going well. Dimly candle lit bar. Romance in the air. Moving closer to one another, without really noticing it. A soft touch on the knee. A flirtatious fling of the hair. A special look in the eye. A shy glance away, then back again.
Time for me to pee.
I enter le biffy. Smile at myself in the mirror. Give myself a wink. ‘Oh Chris, you’ve outdone yourself again. How could things get better for you tonight. Patience Chris’.
Little do I know what awaits.
With a smile firmly planted on my face, I enter the stall. There it sits, glistening in the feeble light. The log from Hell. Unbroken, and almost looking proud. It looks like it came from someone who really didn’t need desert after all.
I reel from the shock, but there’s knowwhere to go. I’m trapped. Standing back, I gain the strength to confront it. I move my tembling hand to flush it. Fu… shwaaaa.
I try to avert my eyes, but I’m somewhat curious, ‘How is Mr. Tenderloin doing in there?’ I have to glance. There it is, tumbling and turning, trying to right itself. Putting up a struggle one would be proud of. But the onslaught is just too much. It’s going to lose this battle tonight.
Transfixed now, a part deep inside of me actually wants it to win, but I know that won’t be the case. Resistance is futile. It heads for the bottom with one last flurry of motion, like some grotesque lesson in death. It proceeds to leave the life it once knew. And… gets stuck. Its decided it has one more trick up its sleeve. If it won’t go, nothing will. It’s determined to make a stand. Outsmarted by a turd again.
I go back to the table. My smile replaced now with sights and sounds of a struggle to horrible to share. A memory now so firmly implanted on my brain that no amount of therapy can help. A look of sad dismay, ‘What have I been beaten by?’
I’m at a loss for words. Words that before this point had tumbled off my tongue with like pettles off a rose. What has become of me.
A chunk of brown,
so flush it down.
Oh! No!
It won’t go!
Try again! Dispose of it!
We cannot have eternal shit!
But some things are not meant to be,
so there it floats in quarts of pee.
It’s enough to make a strong man shatter,
this annoying wad of fecal matter.
It kind of knocks you for a loop,
that uncooperative ball of poop.
I am done; here end the words
of my little rhyming ode to turds.
Ecks,
You are one funny human, but you have too much time on your hands.
If it’s like my new “low flow” that the landlord installed (he pays the water bill, city law, but they paid for the toilet), then you do tend to get floaters. If see it start to swirl, you assume it’s going to go down but it can slide back while you’re busy washing your hands.
Just flush again. Maybe it will overflow, and that will prove it was more than the john could take at once.
Are you happy now? This is your tax dollars at work.
I’m crying here. It’s great that we can all find humor in a monster log floating in a toilet. It’s good to be easily amused.
Heeheehee… poo… heeheehee…
Hail Tim the Conqueror, who faced the Loaf of Terror and lived to tell the tale! Hail the noble bard MysterEcks,who sang the tail of Homer and the Loaf of Terror!
not tail, tale. Or ballad, if you prefer.
I’m a dumbass - can’t even post properly to a thread about poop! :o
Have you never seen All in the Family?
When we went to Kentucky for Memorial Day, we stopped at a Wendy’s in Nashville for lunch. I took babyjesus to the bathroom before we left. There, filling the bowl, was the biggest turd I’ve ever seen. I know someone’s ass was hurting after that one. Of course, babyjesus runs out and yells to momma, “There’s this BIG poop in the bathroom! And it’s stuck!” I bet every guy in the joint went in to look at it before they left.
Good thinking. It’s terrible to keep having to stop on your way to Jeruzalem. Them donkeys get good speed eventually, but they accelerate like turtles.
Oh My God. I recall finding one floating in the bowl the other week. The damn thing was so big, I was tempted to look in the other stalls for the branches that had to have been snapped off for that tree trunk to fit in the bowl. MERCY!
**
I know what you mean. We had to stop **4 ** times between home and Memphis that morning (a 2-2 1/2 hour drive).
Why are you PEEING in a stall anyway Homer? Do you have a urinal phobia??
wonders what OTHER odd things Homer does
danger, whammo, danger! do NOT wonder what else homer does. haven’t you read his sig line?
magdalene, i believe your use of the word “tail” was correct due to the subject matter being discussed here.