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 Suffering For ArtPosted 06.11.2002 by Nightstalker (10)
Editor's note: This was emailed to our PoopReporter Hershey-Squirts, who forwarded it to me. I do not know if it is true or not... if the FBI comes subpoenaing my files, then we'll know the answer.
I have been plagued for the past year with an unusual bowel complaint. My stools, instead of being moist and soft and easy to pass, have been hard, dry, huge and agonizing to pass. My doctor tells me that this is merely part of growing old and he prescribes various drugs and dietary supplements. They work, and provide me with relief. But for the past six months, I've not taken them, and now suffer again. Lest you think me some manner of masochist, be aware that I am an artist, and incorporate my feces into artwork. I embed them in clear cast plastic blocks. These are not meant for the art market. No, they serve a higher purpose. Yesterday, I felt a truly huge turd in my rectum, pressing against the anal sphincter. I had prepared the mold earlier that day, and was ready to create art. The first layer of clear cast was colored with a bilious green, glow in the dark dye, the better to set off the rich brown of the turd. Another layer of plastic, a few inches thick, had been poured into the mold and had hardened. The next layer of plastic was in its capped jug, awaiting the addition of catalyst. The microfine gold dust and the simple punched brass rectangle border were at hand. All was ready. I could wait no longer, I must pass this awful thing now. As I squat over the bucket filled with glycerine, I pour the catalyst into the jug and stir it carefully, so as not to introduce air bubbles into the mixture. My art must be perfect. I strain and push, my ears roar and my vision seems suffused with a red mist. The pain, the agony is unbearable, yet I continue to strain and push. Death would be preferable right now, but art must be satisfied! The enormous hard, dry turd slowly pushes its way past the anal sphincter. I know there will be blood, there often is. The turd hits the glycerine and slowly sinks to the bottom of the bucket. I weep with relief. The pain is still there, but lessened. I carefully dab at my bleeding anus with pure white toilet paper. There is much blood. Good. I take care as I place the stained toilet paper onto the block of clear cast plastic. It must be positioned just right. I slowly pour the liquid plastic onto the paper, covering it and positioning the paper in the swiftly jelling stuff. Ah, perfect. I mix another batch of clear cast and catalyst. While I wait for it to begin to jell, I don my plastic gloves and oh-so-carefully remove the bloodied turd from the bucket of glycerine. I dry it with hot air from a hair dryer and paper towels. Using a set of false teeth, hinged at the back, I take a 'bite' from it, making sure that the teeth marks are quite plain. Yes, this is going to be a good one. I take great pains to place the turd properly on the almost hardened plastic. I sprinkle the gold dust around it in a pleasing pattern. A quick spray of diluted catalyst sets the gold dust into place, so that I may pour the next to last layer of plastic into the mold without disturbing the gold dust. Finally, I place the carefully tooled brass frame into place onto the hardening plastic and then pour the final layer into place. I must now wait for at least 48 hours before I can remove the block of plastic from its Teflon mold for finishing. Ah, it is done. The surface has been polished and this is truly one of my best works. The block looks like fine crystal. I don new gloves, and carefully wrap and package this work of art. Sealing the box, I apply a return address label bearing the name and address of the person, who, 30 years ago accused me of a petty theft to cover his own schoolroom thieving. This caused me to lose my place on the honor roll in fifth grade. I thought long and hard as to whom I should send this work of art. I have decided this should be shared with the people of the United States. Tonight, I shall visit the computer room where this fellow works, and use one of the computers and printers to produce the mailing label (having almost full access there when I wear my janitor costume and carry a bucket and mop). I will weigh the package and use the company postage meter. The mailing label will read:
Editor's Note: The staff of PoopReport.com does not condone sending feces to the White House. Post new comment
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