Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Fling Feck

Let’s talk about poop, shall we? It's been a while since I flexed my scatological mind. It's actually become a bit constipated lately. Since my last few blogs went over like cat shit lip gloss, it's time to haul out the ole tried and true - a blog dedicated to fecal matter! I'm just like a pitcher who is fooling no one with his breaking ball so he rears back (as it were) and fires the high heater.

I was in sixth grade and on a field trip to the channel island of Jersey (I was living in London at the time) that had a wildlife preserve. A few of us kids got ahead of the group and found a cage with monkeys. Where is this story headed do you suppose? Anyway, one of us soon discovered that by taunting the simians, it would cause them to hurl their own shit at us. This was a wonderful discovery for me. The first time I understood that monkeys threw shit! Oh boy. Well the teacher and the rest of the kids caught up to us and were standing right in front the monkey cage when I and my pals, standing somewhat off to the side at this time, started whooping and hollering. As the group turned to find out what the fuck was up with us, a shower of monkey crap descended upon them. What a hoot!

We had a cat when I was a kid that used to like to eat tinsel off the Christmas tree. This was great because before long, tinsel was gaily festooning her puckery little cat asshole. At first she would do that hilarious thing that cats and dogs do when faced with a situation like this or a similar one - scoot her ass along the floor (I think this is known as "johnny coasting"). She eventually gave up because I started putting tinsel in her food and it became too much for her to do anything about. I also discovered that rubber bands will do when it's off season for tinsel. I want to start a band called The Johnny Coasters.

I was in a band once called Boot Party and we did a song called "Dump In A Doorway." I came up with my all time favorite lyric just for this song: "I could see nuts and corn and a few dark hairs, it smelled real bad there were flies everywhere. It was too big to have come from a dog - I knew right them it was a human log!" Bob Dylan should be so talented.

Our pal Jay "Ass Master" Fortin, he of Scissor Fight fame, likes to tell this heart warming story from his youth. When he was little, he got a bowling ball set for Christmas. I guess he got a little excited because he crapped himself. Fortunately, his parents were out of the room so it gave him time to stuff the shit back from whence it came. What tool did the little Ass Master use to facilitate this? Why, a plastic bowling pin! Years later, when my band was playing with his band at a Christmas show, we presented him with a toy bowling pin smeared with chocolate. I can't remember but I'm sure he cried.

So there you have it. Feel free to add your own poop vignettes.

4 Comments:

At 8:47 AM, Blogger LittleDougyPorkSword said...

This one time...at poop camp...

I was once helping a little lady change her tire, I had to really heave on the lug wrench to get one of the bolts. Sure enough...I crapped myself. I had to excuse myself, do that stiff legged walk (so as not to smear too much) into the woods and do a damage assement. I told her I walk that way because I had polio as a kid. I think the reek might have given me away though.

 
At 11:09 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Then there is always Shitty Nitty, who went to light a fart but dowsed the lighter instead....

 
At 3:26 PM, Blogger CptLeech said...

I worked with a kid one summer whos nickname was Two Socks because he always wore two pairs of socks no matter how hot it was. He claimed it was because it was more comfortable than a single pair. One night while out drinking I found out the real reason. On our way to the third bar of the night Two Socks ducks down an alley and tells me to keep watch. He squats behind a dumpster ,removes his shoes and one of the pairs of socks, drops a big old loadsie then uses the socks to wipe his sorry ass. Turns out he has a severe phobia of any public restroom and rather than carry around a roll of TP he has the extra socks. I wish I had thought of it.

 
At 12:31 AM, Blogger heavy metal hippie said...

My brother was obsessed with the pee and poop thing when we were kids, so he had me poop in the backyard so he could send it in the mail to our cousin Brenda. I was probably 4 or 5 years old and he was 6 or 7. I think he actually ended up sending her some dried up dog poop. Does this make us demented geniuses or were we just ahead of our time?

 

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