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Pooetry

The Real Bowl Cracker

I’ll tell you a story and believe me it’s true.
I was having a cigarette and needed to poo.

I needed to go and I just couldn’t wait.
So I made a decision that coulda sealed my fate.

I went to the toilet with cigarette in hand.
I quickly sat down, I didn’t stand.

I was scared to death as I began my erosion.
What if there was a spark causing a huge explosion!

My defecation was complete and I was still alive.
But a now problem came to my mind.

My cigarette was finished and I needed it out.
My heart started racing and my butthole did pout.

I had no choice, I needed to make a decision.
A decision which would require great precision.

I needed to drop the smoke in only water.
With what I had done I grew only distraught-er.

If it hit a turd or deadly methane…
What would follow would bring me the pain.

I was so deathly scared that I closed my eyes.
It missed turd and gas to my surprise.

So safe and sound I survived with my clacker.
And I’ve redefined the term, ‘A Real Bowl Cracker.’

Pure Pooetry

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