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Pooetry

The Mass Trumpet Incident

In the infamous words of ECW, “HOLY SHIT!”
Here’s a story so lend me your ears, quick!

This story is true and I still can’t believe it happened…
The tale of Papa Poosepi and his manager while he crappened.

The day was hot and bothersome at best.
Every worker in the shop was covered in sweat.

All-day long, pooping was not an option…
And I feared I would pass out from heat exhaustion.

So all I could do was work work work.
Regardless of how many times my bowels twerked.

As the temperature grew so did my fecal desire.
I had to make doodie, the situation was dire!

To the toilet, I went to deliver the shizzle.
And as I planted my cheeks, the hot seat made a sizzle.

Then I heard a sound I didn’t want to hear…
Another user came in which is my biggest fear.

I’m a firm believer that a man’s throne is his castle.
An occupied next cubicle is a frustrating hassle.

I must be alone surrounded by peace and quiet.
It’s the only way I can comfortably deliver a fecal riot.

But time had run out, I heard them lock the door.
I was at critical mass and couldn’t take much more.

Then it happened, a ginormous explosion.
Thundering gas and splattery erosion.

What happened next had me laughing tears!
And I think this story will live on for years and years.

My fecal neighbour screamed “What the Hell was that?”
Then came round two of explosive shat.

Without a care in the world I had won the bout.
My neighbour left muttering “I’ll let myself out!”

Pure Pooetry

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