A five second shotgun of shit. The porcelain reservoir that houses my backlogged accounts needs prepping every time I sit on it. As I quickly wash down the seat with paper towel soaked in water and soap I think about how neuroses, cleanliness, minutia, pathos and eros are disguised in an excuse to not attain some sort of dick and ass disease one might procure from the germ-filled toilet seat. I sit. I push. I look at the walls: etchings, drawings, the modern day paintings of cave men lost in having to voice themselves. Witty remarks about the mundane followed by phone numbers offering head, drugs, good times, and wisdom. I flush it all down and wipe my ass with a moist paper. Twenty minutes of sanctuary and my right leg feels numb. Bad circulation. Overall good times had by all.
- Senor Franco
Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Genius idea?
I had the thought of crapping and eating my lunch simultaneously to save time but decided not to. I almost did it though. I'm glad I didn't bring my food into the bathroom with me because it got kind of messy.
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