Ode To The Creeper Shit
To preface: I work in a very small and closely knit office. The bathroom is practically in the center of the room, so smells and noises are very noticeable. As we are all women in the office, the bathroom mostly goes unused (a shameful practice, but understandable and sometimes, appreciated).
But today I had the worst of them all: the creeper. You know, the one that just will not come out short of 35 minutes and a magazine? The kind of poop where you start reading the labels on the backs of bottles and toothpaste? Anything just to pass the time? Yes. That one.
"Ode to the Creeper Shit"
Ode to the creeper shit
In our quiet office building,
How you sit and make me sweat
Like a church-going Sunday morning.
I know you know they hear me
Quietly strain and struggle,
And yet you stay there, waiting,
In the caverns of my butt hole.
Just you wait, you little creeper shit;
I will get into the zone.
Once the clock hits five p.m.,
I will destroy you from my throne.