Twice Told Toilet Tale a Cheeky Execrable Gross Fable
Twice told toilet tale – a cheeky execrable gross fable
which poetic product best be affixed
with hashtag STINKY label.
As a young whippersnapper
and one precocious lad to boot,
I discovered common combustible materials
found in the bathroom.
At opportune times,
I blithely tinkered with dangerous chemicals
that could (but never did)
explode into one humongous
fiery maelstrom and
bloom (re: annihilate)
this lad to smithereens.
Window kept open to avoid
un--necessary nor accidental asphyxiation.
After clearing defecation deep within,
the recesses of my bowels,
I thenceforth indiscriminately combined
various household cleansers
and cleaners (in powder
and/or liquid form) into the bidet.
The requisite sphincter muscle
byproduct constituted the key ingredient.
Anyway, my aha moment arrived
one childhood day
that long sought after ka-boom
sent a plume of smoke
in tandem with geyser of water
caused me to feel
flush with excitement.
Waste trill fluttering filled mine heart
(like music to thine ears)
after mine solid waste
fecal byproduct went kerplunk
and caused tsunami
on other side of word.
Mere seconds elapsed
before explosive outcome found me
hurled clear across the room
like a bat out of hell.
Fortunate for me that this
natural bodily excretory function
never caused any serious outcome,
nor injury to life nor limb.
Immaculate notes (with graphic pictures –
albeit crude) attempted to document
any pertinent information.
At some juncture
with this private laboratory experiment,
a close observation
(with nose pinched tight)
revealed bubbles of air trapped within
our archaic household plumbing fixtures.
That aha i.e.eureka moment
prompted me to utter “holy ”
when a chain reaction similar
to volcanic rush of air took place
within the planet.
With haste not waste,
these nimble fingers scribbled
unintelligible (deliberately illegible
to everybody but myself)
the chemical romance
to light a fire under the buttocks
of whomever happened
to be in need of emptying their bowels.
Now, I eagerly waited,
(albeit with impatience)
for that opportune time
whereby thee unsuspecting child
or adult needed to answer
that alimentary call of nature
my dear Watson.
The moment of anticipation arrived
when a long forgotten accursed relative
visited unexpected, which unannounced
rap on the door fueled fanciful notion
to whip up potion to promulgate prank
within the potty.
Once necessary ingredients,
(which secret formula cannot be divulged –
well maybe for a negotiable fee)
got poured giddy glee
generated gloating from head to toe.
Quick as Jack B Nimble
or his best friend Jack B. Quick,
these skinny legs (spindleshanks) sped away,
yet in close activity to the innocent
by sitter who nonchalantly ambled
into the powder room to tend to private business.
Right ear cocked against wall
that served as barrier between
occupant of water closet and yours truly.
Pleasant barely audible
humming, tweeting, and twittering
(like an angry) bird
singing emanated while obnoxious
guest of dishonor proceeded
to place posterior atop potty.
Seconds ticked by
with every now and again
pages of printed material heard
in conjunction with abdominal
groans and grunts to assist sacrifice
to the porcelain goddess.
Utter stillness suddenly punctuated
by the initial sound of a splash into the crapper.
I cupped hands to mouth
lest any unwanted guffaw slip out.
Instantaneously, our pestilential
kooky cousin kissed their ass goodbye
as propulsion forced the body politick
clear thru the unwelcome ample sized window.
Goodbye Charlie (pseudonym used here
to protect the not so innocent)
soon became diminishing shape
spiraling toward the horizon.
One speck of flotsam headed spaceward
versus the turgid turd joining brethren
into the sewerage cistern.
Written by: Edgar Allan poop,
who required quite some time to recoup,
and with slops pail headed off
to collect specimens from the latest scoop
rearing to go bouncing along
ass signed to another bum rap,
whereby blistered buttucks
hopes to earn yours truly another touché
(tush hay) before bottom smacked
courtesy leader of troop
a strong indigenous native son,
whose butt tressed reputation
recounts storied war whoop.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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