First, you are all blocked up: you spend days grunting out little rabbit pellets. Not wanting to admit you are constipated, you go about life - basically denying that something is horribly wrong. Then one day you decide, “Right, time for some fiber, yogurt, and anything else that will get things flowing. The pain and suffering be DAMNED!”
You wait.
And wait.
Slowly, a war is waged deep down in your bowels and gas is expelled. Something is afoot. The urge to purge - baahahahahaha - is great. There is no avoiding the impending voiding of the nether region.
It is going to hurt, a lot. Especially, dear reader, that initial clump/mass of feces.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! OHHHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYYYYYY GOD,” you will scream. “Why did I eat all of that yogurt! That renkon! I FEEELS IT!!” Death would be a far easier fate to bear than the passing of this monstrosity!
You think you hear tearing, “Please, God, noooooooo! How will I explain a torn anus to the medical staff? ‘Oh, hai! Ummm, I…ummm…you see, what happened was….*sigh*’ If there is blood, I’m going to faint.”
You bear down. The amount of pressure and energy being generated to pass this redwood, could launch a space shuttle. Your vision blurs and tears streak down your face. Suddenly, you realize, the bulk of this offensive deposit is approaching the exit. If you can just manage to stay conscious, you can squeeze it out. Your anus screams, “NO! NO! Send it back! IT’S TOO BIG! DO NOT WANT!”
Wall. Hands pressed against wall. Through gritted teeth, you growl and fling your head back. You cannot hold back a howl, as the largest and hardest turd that you have ever experienced, explodes out of your ass. You think to yourself, “God, is this what man-sex is like? I’ll pass!”
The flood gates have been opened and a torrent of solid, oversized excreta zooms into the bowl. You come close to fainting.
Just as you think, “No mas! No mas,” the flow slows and droppings of normal size and consistency slide down the chute. It is over. You are free. FREE! FREEEEEEEEEEEE!
Keeping with tradition, you take a peek into the amazon and witness, what you will later swear was a water python, the concrete like substance, “My God, did I pass that? I had better check for blood. Whew, all clear.”
You wipe, pull up your pants, place your hand on the lever, take a final look at the horrid dung snake occupying your toilet bowl, and then, ladies and gentlemen, YOU FLUSH.
The End.
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