It seems as tho every time I talk with my brother the topic of fecal matters arises. Arby's, Arthur Treacher's , Lucky Charms. Don't leave home with it. It is a fact of life. What goes in must come out. Well, again, way back when I was living in my '63 Greenbriar I was awoken by an intestinal prodding. It was 3 or 4 in the a.m. My options were to drive down to the 7-11, or just step outside and take a dump.
I stepped out and saw my restroom, a utility pole. I leaned against it and dropped more than just my drawers. I wiped my butt and thru the TP down on the fresh dung heap. Needles to say, it didn't look pretty. Anyone that saw it would know who, what, where...So to disguise it I thought it would be best to burn the TP. Maybe the heat and ash would be enough to distort the human factor. I lit the TP and took a couple steps back towards the van. I saw a flicker out of the corner of my eye. Freakin eddie, the creasol soaked pole was going up in flames. The flames were up to about my chin, 5 feet. I did a whole lot of kicking. If I hadn't just gone, I would have done a whole lot of pissing. None the less, tragedy narrowly averted.
Can you now see the headlines?
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
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