After nearly six months as an active PoopReporter, I can truthfully say that the most prevalent and popular type of poop tale is the "explosive diarrhea under compromising circumstances" -- the ol' whew and phew! It's almost as if some folks take perverse pleasure in partaking in The Diet From Hell and then making sure they are also way the hell out of pocket when it comes time to pay the pooper...er, piper.
But, hey, who am I to argue with popular tastes? If this is what the people want, then so be it. So I've decided to contribute to the cause by creating a do-it-yourself multiple choice writer's kit. Now anyone can conjure up one of these frantic, nasty, merde-filled moments and live the glory that is a juicy PoopReport.
Me and my buddy pulled an all-nighter yesterday after we got off work at the (office / factory / Wal-Mart). Man, first we went to a (sleazy singles' bar / sleazy gentlemen's club / sleazy frat house) and drank (five six-packs of lite beer / five gallons of Thunderbird / five punchbowls of rotgut grain). Then, we really needed some snarfables since it had been (24 hours / three days / one week) since we'd eaten anything. We staggered into a (7-11 / Circle K / Texaco) and bought (five bags of mesquite BBQ pork rinds / three packs of jalapeno pepper peanuts / four bags of chipotle and sour cream potato chips / eight cans of teriyaki Vienna sausages / six aerosol spray cans of Bleu Cheese Whiz / a dozen hickory-smoked/extra chewy pull-out-your-caps Slim Jims / three pints of rum raisin Ben & Jerry's).
We ate all that in the (front seat of the car / on a park bench covered in pigeon poop / on the curb of the sidewalk) and even had a race with a stopwatch to see which one of us could finish first without breathing or even closing our mouths. I beat him by three seconds, and then we both (belched like sumbitches / did those grievous vomit burps / mostly just did fake gags and stuck our fingers down our throats for fun). But we held it all down and laughed our asses off because that is what we do best when we are not asleep or comatose.
So, speaking of sleep, we managed to crawl back to (my place / my buddy's place / I have no idea) and get a coupla hours by (passing out / passing out / passing out). When we woke up, we both felt a major league case of (The Gruesome Gurglies / The Shuffle / Hustle And Trots / The Splatters' Greatest Hits / Who's That Knocking At My Backdoor) coming on fast like (The Indy 500 / a cattle drive in a B-movie Western / Cher cruising a high school prom / Charo on Jay Leno). We needed to find a toilet to avoid total meltdown.
But for whatever reason, there were no facilities for us to use! And all that crap we had eaten and drunk was screaming at us at the top of its lungs and bangin' on our bungholes with (a pair of massive drumsticks / boxer's gloves / the relentless persistence of death incarnate). So, we had no choice other than to drop trou right there (in the bathtub / behind the 7-11 / in the elementary school playground).
My friend shot a stream of (Dijon mustard-colored marinade / burnt orange bundt-cake batter / quick-fix Brownie mix with peanuts) out of his ass that must have traveled (ten feet / twenty yards / thirty miles) through the air and landed in (the next county / the Kennedy Space Center / the People's Republic of China).
As for me, I painted the landscape using a palette of (warm, runny watercolors / hot, vivid, greasy oils / awesomely awful anal acrylics). I mean, my crap was all over the place before I was through. It was (on the highest branches of trees / hanging in the air like the essence of a once-fine wine turned to vinegar / collecting on my Mom's new carpet) -- and even in my hair! Seeing this, my buddy (laughed / vomited / laughed and vomited).
Finally, my buddy and I were finished with our (jet propulsion experiments / pressure hose playtime / O-ring orchestrations) and ready to resume our normal lives again. We have every intention of repeating this performance tonight. Hell, this time, we may even get arrested and (abuse a holding cell toilet or two / spontaneously ass-combust during our arraignment / make the PoopReport news wire)!
-- (John Asscroft / George W. Tush / Colon Bowell / Donald Bumsfilled)