I eat crap for a living. No, really. Not only crap, I drink your liquid waste, and swallow just about any type of human matter that you people bother to flush down my throat. The worst is when some of you don't flush; you just leave things floating, and I wonder when the piece of crap is going to disintegrate and just sink down to the bottom by itself. Can you imagine me putting a piece of fried chicken in your mouth, keep it open all the time and refuse to let you swallow? This is what it feels like when you guys don't flush! And one more thing. Gentleman, can you please do me a favour and sit down when you pee next time? No matter the size, length or girth, none of you, I repeat, NONE OF YOU, can aim straight! You just dig out your thing and start spraying your pee everywhere around my face, as though I have flowers growing and you are doing me a favour by supplying them with organic fertiliser. Please, come on, stop lying to yourself. You know your wife is right; you can't shoot straight even if I gave you a ruler. The thing is, you don't flush, you don't wash your hands, and you think no one is watching when you dig your nose and wipe the booger underneath the bloody sink, so much so I'm beginning to think they are tumourous! I mean, have you bent over and looked at the underside of my dear sink lately? He looks like he's got terminal skin cancer! And you people are worried about some new influenza thing. Sheesh. Please, boys, flush, wash your hands, and keep your crap to yourself. And by the way, I can hear you sing in the shower, and you ain't exactly Frank Sinatra. You best pray my face doesn't crack. Otherwise your crap will stay in you instead of me until our dear plumber comes. I'm sure your wife will be happy. Not sure how happy you'll be to be cuckolded though. Heh heh heh. I'm your toilet bowl, and I inhale all your deepest darkest secrets. Think you can flush them all away? Think again, punks! --

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