Last night I had lentil salad, corn chowder, and two bowls of 100% bran flakes. This morning, I had to get up at 4 am to poop what might have been the most beautiful log I have ever seen. It was dark brown with beige striping and little corn kernels here and there. It was a thing of beauty and belonged on a museum wall...god was it a work of art.

Anyway, I stared at it for about 20 minutes. I couldn't bring myself to push the lever and let it go....at one point, I thought it was talking to me "....george, george, don't flush me....let's get together for a beer and talk this over...shall we?"....my god, am I going fucking crazy?

Finally, I started talking BACK to the freacking poop....I said "Paul (that was his name, he told me so), Paul, I have to flush you, your just a piece of fucking shit.".....but then he said something that made me think...he said...George, if I were a piece of shit, how come I don't smell?"...and he was right....he had no stink!!!. So we talked for awhile, about the wife and kids, and his family, and the little poops. He told me they were all swell, except his inlaws were all diahrea..."aren't they all?" I replied.

Anyway....we reached a lull in the conversation, and, without thinking, I reached over and flushed him. My god, the look of terror on his face is burned into my brain. I watched him grasp and grab at the side of the bowl as he whirled around....but he couldn't catch on...he just left brown streaks...and now that's all I have left of him. And I'm sad...and I miss him...and I want him back....