squits

it started with a moment of near disaster.
a small fart that hinted at a follow through, and stopped short of kissing cotton. the smell just shy of hell's sewage, enough to singe eyebrows and choke cows.
it should have set alarm bells ringing.
it didn't.
a good night of sleep. waking up the sun in the sky, and all is well with the world.
oh spoke too soon.
a rumble in the tum.
a small parp.
another rumble.
a clench of cheeks and a 'oh no!'
dash! dash! dash! rush! rush! get to the toilet, don't stop, get to the toilet.
nooooooo - the seat is down. don't panic.
quick. quick.
sit down.
shit down.
gushing out. who knew you could evacuate that much stuff in so little time.
oh wow get a whiff of that, gag me with a spoon as frank zappa once said (well actually it was moon who said it, but frank wrote it).
have to say feel much better now. time to get on with the rest of the day.
oh no.
hold on.
bombs away.
more coming out.
and out.
and out.
and out.
crikey who knew that shitting out half your body weight could be so tiring? after all super-models do it all the time (see i can even make this social commentary).
nose hairs have been burnt away by the stench.

phew glad that is all over.

hold on, there is another rumble.
another trip to the toilet.
splash down.

by the fourth trip there i have developed a ring of fire. mmm that might be what it feels like to have deep heat rubbed into your arse (not that anyone would want that - though it used to be a jolly jape to smear it onto a rugby player's jock strap, another of those things i never really understood about rugby humour).

those of you have gotten this far will be pleased to know that i am back to just defecating at a regular rate and a regular consistency. let me tell you: it is bliss.