That poop story I told on the run a few weeks ago.
I have a story to tell. Don't ask me how I know it, and I promise it wasn't me.
One night Zelda (the name has been changed to protect the guilty) was on a date. Zelda, her date and a group of friends went back to her date's apartment. Zelda, upon reflecting on the needs of her own body, realized that it was time to visit the loo. Zelda was obviously a very empowered girl, not one to take social convention into consideration when toddling off to the john because she was not going off to pee she was going to get all #2 up in that bathroom. Oh, and she did. Did she ever. Evidently the deed that could not be undone was also not going to be bested by a flushing toilet. Oh no, this was the Cassius Clay of poops and it was not going down without a fight. Try as she might, Zelda could not make it go away. Zelda was Lady McBeth and that poop was the &^*#$ spot. It floated there, mocking her, as time ticked away and was slowly passing from "Oh, she just takes a long time in the bathroom" to
"What is going on in there? Should we knock? Do you think she needs help?"
"What exactly would she need help with?"
So, (and soooooo many questions arise in my head at this point - let me tell you). She made the conclusion that she was going to have to take the thing home with her. Oh, you read right. She was going to take the abominable Mr. Stinky home to dispose of in an undisclosed location (Seriously. I never found out what she did with it). So, swaddling it carefully and thoroughly in toilet paper*, she put the monstrous poop in.....her purse. You can stop reading for a second to digest that little piece of information. This is where I stopped. I was floored and speechless. In hindsight I would have asked so many more questions like:
1. How much longer did the date last?
2. No one asked about the smell?
3. Did she get asked out again?
4. WHERE DID SHE DISPOSE OF THAT MONSTROSITY!!??
With that, may you have a very happy, uncomplicated, regular but not unmanageable, Wednesday.