When you drop a big load in the toilet,
The scent could most certainly spoil it;
But to cut down on smell
From the dookie from hell,
Underwater, butt movement must coil it.

There once was an old man named Bob,
Who shared the old days with a sob.
But now I know why
He always would cry,
'Cause they wiped their butts with a corncob.

Martin Luther had "95 Theses,"
And Darwin, his "Origin of Species,"
But all that I've got
Is contained in the pot
As butt nuggets, dirt snakes and feces.

I have an acquaintance named Bridget
Short-statured, quite frankly, a midget,
But the odor that leaks
When she spreads her butt-cheeks
Can make the most strong stomach fidget.

If you fill up your gut with wild cherries,
The outcome will be not too merry.
When taking a dump,
In your hair stays a lump
Whose technical term's "dingleberry."

After eating a meal that was greedy,
I pooped out a log, thick and meaty.
It swirled 'round and 'round
And finally went down,
On its way painting toilet graffiti.

I heard some strange talk from my turds;
"Pfft, plop, ker-plunk" were their words.
I turned to talk, then,
To my new little friends,
But they drowned silent, unheard.

I'm literally rolling in gutters
Laughing at Dumpster and Butterz,
And their quest to be king
Of writing about things
That come from people's turd cutters.

Once I was feeling down-hearted
So I let loose my anus and farted.
Mom asked, "What's the matter,
did I hear a splatter?"
And then did I realize I'd sharted.

Great story, Toilet Eel! (Great name, too!)

I have to agree with C.E.P. on the political state of this website. Just look at the first dozen or so comments on "The 10 Stages of Pooping." Why did almost every comment get lamed, except for the one about the Bushes eating poop? Bunch of fiery liberals running and moderating this site, that's why. (-1 point, -1 point!)