Rollin' rollin' rollin' ...
One fine day, some friends of mine went for a nice, wholesome bike-ride around the country. All good fun.

One of the party who we shall call Nick (for that is not his name) started to experience that disquieting feeling in the lower abdomen which heralds the arrival of a jobbie in the bowel.

The jarring motion of the bicycle over the many rocks and crannies of the rustic country path and the hard seat pressing hard against his biz-hole only served to accentuate the contractions of his gut and the general discomfort being experienced in his lower body half.

Eventually he could stand the pain no longer, and sweating, he called his friends to stop, saying that he was popping into the woods along the side of the path to give birth.

After walking into said woods a few paces, he was dismayed to find that the ground gave away sharply to a steep decline, with the trees barely clinging to the soil. "No matter" thinks he "for here is a tree with low boughs that I can cling to"

And so he did just that, dropped his kecks, grabbed onto the lowest branch, crouched and let go of a nice big earthy log

What makes this tale especially pleasing to the listener, is the joy that young Nick experienced upon looking over his shoulder, and seeing his babb roll gently away down the hill like a wagon wheel.

I like to think that the poo is still rolling to this day over pastures new, wearing a bandana like a kind of fecal 'Littlest Hobo' :)
( Droog is too orangey for crows, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 13:39, Reply)