The clock stuck two.

I wanted to take a moment to speak seriously to you for a moment, for moment's sake.  Let's start over.  I would like this moment to be given to you in all seriousness.  I like to pair up when I shit.

That is all.

Nope.

I really do like to have a shit buddy.  Not in that gross yet kind of intriguing scat way, but in the let's hold hands and share a squirt together type way.  Let's be real, how good do you need to know a friend in order to openly fumagate their surroundings?  Pretty, darn, good.  Plus, it has the added bonus of, not being the one who dealt it, feeling.  Like if there happens to be someone else in the bathroom when you both arrive to drop your goodies.  You have the comfort of letting loose freely for the fact that it can be blamed on your friend next door.  No longer shall we sit in constipatic pain while waiting for that old mutha bitch to shake his junk.  No more fear of the high pitched squeel coming from a clenched check trying to save you from the inconstitutional embarrassment of the swinging stall door and the eye contact of all the pissers by.  Head held high you look to the stall next to you and glance, it was him.  We all should have shit buddies.  Let me be the first to say I am here for all of you.  My colon is open for business and I'm looking for the tenant of my dreams...oh, that seems to be a different subject.  Well, one in the same.  The kids are at the edge of the pool and I'll be the one to drop them in for you.