Once upon a time, there was a man named Martin. His name alone has the rhyme scheme to make for a good poem about flatulence. But dear, sweet Martin has generously donated far more material to PoopReport's pooets: Martin has a glass eye. Which he swallowed. Accidentally. And now he's worried his wife will find out, so he wants to advice on how to poop it out faster.

And, best yet, if you read his letter [1] closely, it appears this isn't the first glass eye he's swallowed.

Limericists: there's a free PoopReport t-shirt [2] in it for the best pooem! Good luck!

(Martin, if you're reading this: I understand this is a serious situation for you, and I hope we give you good advice on the page with your letter. But I also really hope you see the humor in your situation. Because there's a whole lot of it. A whole lot.)