It happens every once in a while. I'm in a hurry. Gotta get out of the house and go! But my bag looks pretty large. I take a peek. Damn, it must weigh 3 pounds. Must empty the sucker. Into the bathroom I fly. Unlock, unroll, and hustle it empty. In my haste, the bag bottom flops about. Coating my tallywacker with... output. "Damn it," I exclaim. My wife comes to the door. "Everything OK, honey?" "Oh, I'm fine," I say reassuringly.
To be continued...
Part 2 of: A Different Poop Problem.
"You sure?" she says. "You sound stressed." "I got some shit on my dick," I reply. This revelation is met with stony silence. I hear her mutter as she walks away, "I'll never get near that thing again." No matter, I think. Looking around, I realize in my rush, I forgot to move the paper towels near the toilet. So I grab some toilet paper and succeed in smearing the poop even more. I get up and waddle over to grab the paper towels. And discover, horrors... I have poop all over my hands too. I'm thinking dark thoughts as I return to the throne. Another day in the life. "Gotta be tough to be an ostomate."
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Laughed out loud at this one... It has only happened to me once in the middle of the night while I was still half asleep - since I don't have a "tallywhacker," it ended up on the bathroom floor, requiring me to do a "clean-up on aisle 4."