I was taking care of my PLP* when suddenly the washroom door kicks open and I hear an aluminum step ladder unfold roughly on the tiles.
An apologetic face appears over the stall.
“Sorry buddy,” he says, “I have to test the smoke detectors.”
I wave and smile.
* PLP = Post Lunch Poo.
0 thoughts on “My PLP”
The real horror of this whole thing was how nonplussed I was about it. Sharkboy said if that would happen to him he’d rip the guy a new bunghole.
I just said, “That’s ok buddy.”
It stems from years of living with Swollen Uvula and our open door policy (but we werent allowed to see each other wipe).
I was glad to have gotten rid of my PTISHTYBBISAPIPIOUT*
(*poop that I should have taken yesterday but because I’m such a procrastinator I put it off until today.)
Do you get as much attention for your ADD*?
* After Dinner Dump
sound like you had peeping PLPer!