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The Ghost Poo:
The kind where you feel poo come out, see poo on the toilet paper, but there''s no poo in the bowl.
The Clean poo -
The kind where you feel poo come out, see poo in the bowl, but theres no poo on the toilet paper.
The Wet Poo-
You wipe your butt fifty times and it still feels unwiped. So you end up putting toilet paper between your butt and your underwear so you don''t ruin them with those dreadful skid marks.
The Wet Cheeks Poo-
That''s the kind that comes out of your butt so fast that your butt cheeks get splashed with the toilet water, or splash-back.
The Second Wave Poo-
This poo happens when you think you''ve finished, your pants are up to your knees, and you suddenly realize you have to poo some more.
The Brain Haemorrhage-through-your-nose Poo-
You have to strain so much to get it out that you turn purple and practically have a stroke.
The Lincoln Log Log-
The kind of poo that''s so enormous you''re afraid to flush it down without first breaking it up into little pieces with the toilet brush.
The Power Dump Poo-
The kind that comes out so fast, you''ve barely got your pants down and you''re done.
The Liquid Plumber Poo-
This kind of poo is so big it plugs up the toilet and it overflows all over the floor. You should have followed the advice from the Lincoln Log Poo.
The Spinal Tap Poo-
The kind of poo that hurts so much coming out, you''d swear it''s got to be coming out sideways.
The ''I-think-I''m-turning-into-a-bunny'' Poo-
When you drop lots of cute, little round ones that look like marbles and make tiny splishy sounds when they hit the water.
The ''What-the-hell-died-in-here'' Poo-
Also sometimes referred to as The Toxic Dump. Of course you don''t warn anyone of the poisonous bathroom odour. Instead, you stand innocently near the door and enjoy the show as they run out a-gagging and a-gasping for air.
The ''I-just-know-there''s-a-turd-still-dangling-there'' Poo-
Where you just sit there patiently and wait for the last cling-on to drop.
December 26, 1999
Dear Santa,
You must be surprised that I''m writing to you today, the 26th of December. Well I would very much like to clear up certain things that have occurred since the beginning of the month, when, filled with illusion, I wrote you my letter.
I asked for a bicycle, an electric train set, a pair of roller blades, and a football uniform. I destroyed my brain studying the whole year. Not only was I the first in my class, but I had the best grades in the whole school.
I''m not going to lie to you, there was no one in my entire neighborhood that behaved better than me, with my parents, my brothers, my friends, and with my neighbors. I would go on errands, and even help the elderly cross the street. There was virtually nothing within reach that I would not do for humanity.
What balls do you have leaving me a fucking yo-yo, a stupid whistle, and a pair of socks? What the fuck were you thinking you fat son of a bitch?!
That you have taken me for a sucker the whole fucking year to come out with some shit like this under the tree. As if you hadn''t fucked me enough, you gave that little faggot across the street so many toys that he can''t even walk into his house.
Don''t let me see you trying to fit your big ass down my chimney next year. I''ll fuck you up. I''ll throw rocks at those stupid reindeer and scare them away so you''ll have to walk back to the fucking North Pole, just like what I have to do now since you didn''t get me that fucking bike.
FUCK YOU SANTA. Next year you''ll find out how bad I can be, you FAT-SON-OF-A-BITCH!
Sincerely,
Little Johnny